Saturday, March 29, 2014

Retro Candy Crush

I have not, as yet, been indoctrinated into the addictive world of online game Candy Crush, but I swore my internet obsessions (as far as games are concerned) would end with Words with Friends.  My last post's ode to kid mustard got me thinking of some childhood candy crushes of my own, though.  Suddenly, my pop-culture saturated brain was awash with 70s images and with the groovy American Hustle soundtrack as background music, I was practically tasting the mellow vibe again, man...

On a typical childhood summer day, I would wake in the morning and possibly have a dry-as-a-bone Breakfast Square (Mom loved these) with (whole) milk and would check to see everyone was stocked on necessities before leaving.

 Mom was set with her Pepsi Light with its twist of lemon.  Plenty of Tab for the sisters if they were visiting.  It would be a typically hazy, lazy summer day when I would stroll a couple of blocks to the corner store aka the Economy Market run by the genial, welcoming Doug Dale.  Doug would always be astoundingly patient while I followed meticulously through on the purpose of my visit: strenuously deciding which treat to buy and entering my name (daily) to win the Denim Machine van offered in a Coca-Cola/Levis contest.

Forget that I was twelve; I was mesmerized by the purple shag carpet and portable TV supposedly in the back of the Denim Machine...I could live there!  But back to that dilemma of which treat I could buy with that hard-earned allowance.  If only I had Simon to tell me which one to pick...

.the chewy Marathon bar or the crispy, caramelly Caravelle bar (similar to a 100,000 bar but vastly superior in my wide-eyed opinion).

Simon says the Marathon bar, as it was my favorite.  Though there was the occasional predilection for a nougaty Milkshake bar...

Later in the day, I would walk the other way to the county pool and after swimming for a bit, my friends and I would head down to see Dink Snively at the concession stand.  Dink would also be the very soul of patience while I weighed whether to have a Chicko-Stix or a blue Freeze Pop.  Man, if only I had my Merlin to help me figure it out.... hell, I know which one it will be...the blue Freeze pop.  After all, how else will I get my tongue blue?

When the day was once and truly spent (and in those youthful summer days, we wrung every bit of possibility out of the day we could), I would saunter home and an evening snack might consist of a toasted strawberry Danish-Go-Round or if Mom was feelin' crazy, we might make a Wrapple. 


I would go a couple of rounds with my Comp IV, get frustrated and eventually retreat to my dream-world where I would look through Mom's or our neighbor Mary Alice's magazines and fantasize about my future cosmopolitan life.  I saw myself strutting about my fabulous 70s pad in satin disco jacket.  I would have a martini in one hand, a platter of sophisticated hors d'oeuvres in the other and stroll up and down the sleek round spiral steps entertaining my guests while Live and Let Die played in the background.  

Again, I was twelve.

And of course, anyone who's known me for five minutes would know I would have toppled off those round steps in no time, landing unceremoniously on the floor; wearing both the martini and the hors d'oeuvres, but I digress...

 I suppose this is a bit of a cautionary tale.  I couldn't eat sugar like this without some form of cosmic payback and I had the pudge and bad skin to show for it.  However, it doesn't change the fact that each of these were of a taste of childhood summer for me and that makes them timeless treats for me.  Of course, I was happiest when silly and laughter was prevalent in those dewy-eyed days. After all, I was already nursing my future love for satire by collecting every Wacky Package possible.

My childhood had its challenges but it was a happy one.  Full of wonder and play at its most imaginative. Just seeing these images whisk me back to those childhood days of yore. Is that Seals
 and Croft I hear playing?  Someone get me a Blue Freeze Pop, stat.  Oh man, will it ever be possible to return to that wide-open, carefree feeling of childhood?


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