Another Memory, Early Childhood

A memory crystallized in my head today.

The year is 1968, or ‘69, or maybe even 1970. I would have been five years old, give or take a year.

Mommy has sent me to the store. In my pocket is fifty cents. The little mom and pop grocery where we normally shop is some three blocks away, and the town is quite small; no one thinks anything of a five year old wandering around the neighborhood, if he stays out of traffic and out of trouble; it’s even odds that everyone who sees me knows who I am and who my parents are.

I have an errand to run. I don’t mind; the payoff is a generous one for twenty minutes of time and a three block walk, even if my little legs make it feel like a long walk indeed. I walk into the store; one of the ladies at the checkout recognizes me and says hello. I wave back, and head for the comic book rack. Which comic will it be? My tastes at the time ran towards Casper The Friendly Ghost, or perhaps Richie Rich, but Archie was usually pretty good, or perhaps Hot Stuff The Little Devil, a comic that was considered acceptable for children’s consumption at the time (no worse than Casper, really), but would be screamingly assaulted by parent and religious groups today, at the mere sight of its red, horned, pitchfork bearing protagonist.

I choose a comic that suits me, and head for the checkout, and put it on the counter, well over my head and almost out of reach. The nice blonde lady is there; at the time, I remembered her name, but now it’s long lost. She asks me, “Is there anything else today?”

“Yes’m,” I reply. I am being a good boy today, and remember my manners. “Need cigarettes.”

“Winstons, right?” says the blonde lady.

“Yes, ma’am”

She takes a red pack of Winston shorts down from the rack, and rings up the smokes and comic on a manual register; the change comes to something like six cents. We thank each other for the transaction, and I trot back to the house, eager to begin reading my comic.

Mom is in the kitchen. I hand her the smokes and the change, and find a place to begin reading...

Yeah, that happened. And I think I remember it so well because I seem to remember that it happened once or twice a week...