THE CANDY SHOP

By Laura Mirabal

I remember Saturday mornings, when I was about six or seven years old in the early 60s, walking with my dad to the local candy shop.  Saturday was my favorite day of the week, next to Sunday, because I didn’t have to go to school. 

Saturday, especially, my family and I enjoyed a big breakfast, with Cuban bread smothered in butter, yes, butter, no artificial products for us, Cuban coffee with milk and scrambled eggs, and maybe ham.  Cuban bread comes in long bagette loaves.  I can still remember seeing my dad cut one end of the loaf, he put his fingers in the crevasse of the the cut end and take out the bread dough rolling it in the palm of his hand until he made a perfect little sphere of the dough.  Then he would pat some butter on it and hand it me.  I thought this was the neatest thing! 

After breakfast I took off to the living room where TV-land awaited me!  I would be glued to the floor in from of the television console, to watch hours of cartoons from Mighty Mouse, Tom and Jerry, and all the other wholesome cartoons, including commercials, (the cigarette commercials were run in the evening), deemed acceptable for all viewing audiences.

 In the afternoon, after the cartoons were over, of course, my dad would announce that we were going to the candy shop.  He grabbed my hand and we walked, yes, we walked, my father enjoyed walking a lot, to the candy shop located two blocks from our house.  You see, my dad and I had a voracious sweet tooth, and going to the candy shop was our favorite thing to do together.

My dad always made this trek fun.  On our way to the candy shop he did something that will always remain a euphoric memory for me, he would lead us to an empty lot found on the way.  He would tell me that we needed to find and collect empty coke bottles, I asked him why we had to collect empty coke bottles; he would say it was to buy the candy.

Scavenging for coke bottles was fun, although it slowed the progression to the candy shop, but I was just happy that afterward we were going to buy candy, and I knew that this was a bitter-sweet task, that if we found enough bottles, we would get to the candy shop sooner and would be able to buy lots of candy .     

I was very good at finding the bottles.  We usually found at least three, this was usually enough to buy our bounty of candy.  When we reached the candy shop we gave the empty bottles to the shopkeeper to redeem, each bottle was redeemable for five cents apiece.

 Back in the early 60s, candy sold for 1¢ to 5 ¢ max each!  My favorite candy, even today, were Mary Janes and bubble gum; each piece, back then was 1¢.  I would usually buy five pieces of each.  If we had enough money, I would buy one Milky Way Bar, which was 5¢.  My dad also bought his favorite, rock candy, these sold for 1¢ per stick or 5¢ per box.  I know now, as I think back to these wonderful trips to the candy shop, that he would wait for me to make all my selections before he made his.  I know now that he wanted me to be happy and he would take what was left over from the bottle money to make his purchase. 

After the shopkeeper placed our purchases in the paper bag, yes back then we only had paper bags, my dad and I walked back home.  Once home, I was allowed to eat a few pieces of candy and the rest was saved for later. 

As I remember these treks with dad, I think how fortunate I was, that as a little girl he loved me so much that he included me on his walk to the candy shop to buy his coveted candy, he made it fun for me, taught me a valuable lesson on the worth of money, we bonded as daughter and father, and he left a sweet memory for the rest of my life.

My dad died many years ago, but the memories we made, such as our Saturday afternoon treks to the candy shop, which I recall today, will keep him alive in my heart for ever.