Ah, one of my fondest childhood memories is how, back in the day, a pack of us wee ones would pool the few coins we had made sweeping the neighborhood doorsteps and helping the local housewives pin up the washing on the clotheslines, and then off to the corner store we’d go, where kindly old Mrs. McGillicuddy (I can see her now, in her old-fashioned button shoes and her wire-rimmed glasses forever sliding down to the end of her little turned-up nose) stood behind the big glass case full of every kind of penny candy—jellies of all sorts and colors, round chocolate non-pareils, multi-colored jawbreakers, and much, much more. How we’d bicker and barter about which ones to buy with our paltry little savings!
And then, clutching that brown bag of treasure and delight, off to the nearby woods we’d go, to the little clearing we called our “secret spot” (a place otherwise known only to amorous teenage couples and to a few local connoisseurs of published erotica, samples of which they would sometimes leave for the edification of the younger generation in a hollowed-out tree that bordered our idyllic bower).
Big Sally (younger than many of us, but a fierce and robust gal with what these days they call “leadership qualities”) would hold the bag as the rest of us, one by one and with eyes closed, would draw one piece of candy from the bag. Then, when all were settled and the inevitable friendly banter about who had drawn wisely and who had not had subsided and we all sat in a ring (hearts beating a bit fast, if the truth be told), at Sally’s word of “Go!” we’d pop our piece into our mouth and enjoy the sweet savor as the sugared delight seeped into our welcoming taste buds. (But woe betide anyone caught chewing their candy, a violation of the communal trust that brought down the wrath of the entire group on the selfish offender.)
Then Sally, her internal clock as sure and as steady as London’s Big Ben, would say “Switch!,”and, like partners in an old-time country dance, we little friends would exchange our candy for another using only our lips and tongues. Again and again we’d go ‘round the ring, until each of us had tasted every piece of candy in the bag.
Best of all was the very last piece, when all that delightful savor had all but disappeared, and each member of the last pairs lingered, lingered, lingered with their final partner, searching and probing for that fast dissipating morsel of sweetness.
Good times those were, and, alas, they shall not come again.
This is some of the best writing on this site, clearly.
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