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Well, I’ve been dragged into the 21st Century, kicking and screaming: I finally have a (gulp) Facebook page.
And in the past three days, I’ve gained 97 friends and reconnected with people I haven’t seen in 20, 25, 30 years. I’ve found out where grade school classmates are now, what they’re doing. I reconnected with a childhood friend I lived four blocks from growing up who now lives about four miles from me. And I found out we lost a classmate in the tornado.
Hearing from these classmates brought back a flood of childhood memories. There were lazy summer days (after mowing our lawn and those of a few paying customers I had lined up, that is) of swimming at Cunningham Pool. There were chilly winter days of snowball fights, sledding and building forts. There were leaves to rake, and jump in, in the fall, and gardens to tend to in spring.
Besides four seasons of work and outdoor chores, there were visits to Baker’s Grocery.
Bakers had a little bit of everything in a setting that owed a lot more to the general store than a convenience store. You could pick up a can of chicken noodle soup or a loaf of Wonder bread if your momma was running short at home. You could get a cold soda pop or a Popsicle. Or you could step up to the gigantic (it seemed to us kids, anyway) wooden and glass counter and behold a treasure trove of candy.
Bakers had it all: Licorice, wax lips, wax pop bottles filled with that mystery syrup, Lick-Em-Aids, Chik-O-Stiks, and candy bars like Hershey bars or those Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
And it was conveniently located: just half a block north of our elementary school or a block south of my house, if you went down the alley, then cut through the little concrete path in the storefront’s back yard.
The elderly couple who owned the store lived in the back half: I’m sure their summertime lunch was cut short by little ones who had to have a Fudgesicle or a bottle of root beer more than once.
And I loved the ornate old-time cash register: I think the top price it could ring up was $9.99. Since most of our childhood purchases were 50 cents or less, this didn’t pose much of a problem. I liked it because it looked like something out of a cowboy movie, with the curlicues, the pointed price signs, and the little glass window at the top where you could see the amount. You had to know how to add, though, as 35 cents would be displayed as “30” and “5.”
Well, I’ve been dragged into the 21st Century, kicking and screaming: I finally have a (gulp) Facebook page.
And in the past three days, I’ve gained 97 friends and reconnected with people I haven’t seen in 20, 25, 30 years. I’ve found out where grade school classmates are now, what they’re doing. I reconnected with a childhood friend I lived four blocks from growing up who now lives about four miles from me. And I found out we lost a classmate in the tornado.
Hearing from these classmates brought back a flood of childhood memories. There were lazy summer days (after mowing our lawn and those of a few paying customers I had lined up, that is) of swimming at Cunningham Pool. There were chilly winter days of snowball fights, sledding and building forts. There were leaves to rake, and jump in, in the fall, and gardens to tend to in spring.
Besides four seasons of work and outdoor chores, there were visits to Baker’s Grocery.
Bakers had a little bit of everything in a setting that owed a lot more to the general store than a convenience store. You could pick up a can of chicken noodle soup or a loaf of Wonder bread if your momma was running short at home. You could get a cold soda pop or a Popsicle. Or you could step up to the gigantic (it seemed to us kids, anyway) wooden and glass counter and behold a treasure trove of candy.
Bakers had it all: Licorice, wax lips, wax pop bottles filled with that mystery syrup, Lick-Em-Aids, Chik-O-Stiks, and candy bars like Hershey bars or those Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
And it was conveniently located: just half a block north of our elementary school or a block south of my house, if you went down the alley, then cut through the little concrete path in the storefront’s back yard.
The elderly couple who owned the store lived in the back half: I’m sure their summertime lunch was cut short by little ones who had to have a Fudgesicle or a bottle of root beer more than once.
And I loved the ornate old-time cash register: I think the top price it could ring up was $9.99. Since most of our childhood purchases were 50 cents or less, this didn’t pose much of a problem. I liked it because it looked like something out of a cowboy movie, with the curlicues, the pointed price signs, and the little glass window at the top where you could see the amount. You had to know how to add, though, as 35 cents would be displayed as “30” and “5.”
And I loved it when Mrs. Baker rang up a sale. You would hear that distinctive “whir” of the registers internal workings, then the “cha-ching.” For the younger set who haven’t gotten to experience this, the sound of the old cash registers was captured at the beginning of the Pink Floyd hit, “Money.”
I know, I know: Leave it to a fat guy to travel down Memory Lane and wind up at the candy store.
But, the memories of this by-gone era, this simpler time, were brought back by a relatively new innovation.
And for a nostalgic guy like me, that makes Facebook a new favorite.
John Ford is managing editor of the Neosho Daily News. Email him at jford@neoshodailynews.com or catch him on Facebook.
