While I was growing up...oh crap! My wife is reading this over my shoulder and appears to be choking on something. Let me deal with that. I will be right back.
Hmm...it appears she was choking on laughter. Apparently me saying that I grew up is somehow hilarious. I will wait until she is gone and try again.
While I was growing up (looks around, listening for sarcastic laughter, then returns to work) one of my favorite stores was the 5 cent to a $1.00 store. Of course things were a little more expensive than that when I was in my early years, but the name was cute so I continued to shop their in spite of their false advertising. That store had everything, but more importantly it had two of my favorite things...barbeque flavored Hostess potato chips and bulk macaroons. I could have lived on those two items (if they would have lowered the price to 5 cents) as a teenager.
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| I needed 5 nickels and tax to enjoy these |
One of my favorite memories from growing up was the Hostess free bag of chips contest. If you opened your bag and found the words "free bag" embossed on the inside you got a free bag of chips. One time I hit 4 of those prizes in a row. If you are quick to do the math you would realize that I had reached that magical 5 cent price. It was like the store was making peace with me.
The other allure of the store was the bulk candy section. As I said before, macaroons were my favorite chocolate (even though they look like...well, you will see) and my second favorites were the rosebuds. The slight taste of nut mixed with the delicious Canadian chocolate is one of the reasons I have to shop for those special stretchy pants nowadays. Totally worth it though.
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| Macaroons...they look like (edited) but they taste like heaven! |
The 5 cent to a dollar store was a staple of Rainy River until it was destroyed by fire in the late 80's. I had already moved to Minnesota, and the blank space where the store had been was a cause of sadness for me. I missed that old place. It's décor and charm was a link between sometime in the 1940's and today. Every time I return to Rainy River I look at that empty space and remember being young and full of salt and sugar. Those were the days.
Is there an empty space that brings back memories for you? If so I would love to hear about it in the comments below. Thanks, and God bless!
When I was growing up (not done yet) there was a hurricane on the east coast. Many trees in our neighborhood went down. The tree in our neighbor's yard did not go down, but the neighbor cut it down to be ready for the next hurricane.
ReplyDeleteI decided then that I was someday going to live in a rural place where the cutting of trees in my view were in my (and Mother Nature's) control.
I have learned since how to adapt to things going missing. I wonder if today's kids will ever be nostalgic for Dollar General.
I’m nostalgic for my great friend, Jerry Solom, who walked on, on July 23, 2019.
ReplyDeleteLiving only one mile away, I’m at his home frequently this time of year and everything about the place speaks of our long friendship with your late father-in-law, his wife, and kids, whether it’s the battered old mailbox out on the road that he repaired more than a few times; the semi-trailer storage ‘unit,’ by his old shop that he and your mother-in-law built; or the big new shop adjoining it with the large hand-painted sign, “Solom Machine Shop,” leaning against its north.
I miss Jerry being in his shop when I’d stop by. Sometimes, he'd take time out to visit with me, motioning to me there were a couple beers in his old mini-fridge behind the door if I wanted one and, if so, to grab one for him as well; and the way he’d comfortably recline in the old living room chair behind his desk that relieved the discomfort of his curved spine, of its effect after leukemia. Or the days when I’d discover him outdoors laying on the ground, in his leathers and helmet, welding farm equipment; the sparks illuminating the atmosphere around him in a great bluish tinge.
There’s no place in his shop that I can’t imagine him being; no tool I can’t envision him using; and there's no place in my heart that accepts his absence.