Today I am going to start my little personal booklet called Growing up with Rodney. I am not too sure where I am going with this, however I had a memory flash while working on the Internet and decided to put it down before I forgot it.
This memory takes place when I was around the age of 7 or 8 and in the 2nd or 3rd grade of school.
Right next to the High/Grade School and in the same block as the school, there set a couple of businesses geared to selling products that the kids just couldn't do without. Next to the school was a place called Pat's Cafe. The cafe served Dinner to the kids who preferred not to eat sack lunches from home or didn't want to eat in the school cafeteria. The main chow served there were Chiliburgers and hot dogs. I didn't eat there much because I always walked home for dinner. I should say, that in Petersburg, Dinner was the noon meal and Supper was served in the evening.
This little trip down memory lane is not about Pat's Cafe however, it is about the business that was sitting just north of the Cafe. I can't remember the name of the sisters that ran this business, but they were pushers. Not drug pushers as we know them today but pushers just the same. It was because of them or at least one of them that I became addicted.
The business in question was a small Mom and Pop type Grocery store. In the store you could get all the usual stuff that was sold at most local neighborhood stores. Plus they had the usual school supplies expected, sitting right next to the school and one counter that had my downfall incased therein.
I entered that store that day for the first time. Little did I know that I would enter that store at every opportunity. Little did I know that I would run not walk from school to home and back to school on my dinner hour just to have the time to enter that store and feed my addiction. What was it that had my in its evil grip? Not the pencils or paper, Not the rulers or notebooks. It was the candy in the candy counter that started my addiction.
The candy counter sat on the left just as you entered the store. It seemed to run the entire length of the store to me, but now I guess it was only 5 or 6 feet long. There were all kinds of candy on display in that counter, which I won't get into at this time. I didn't know just what kind of candy I wanted at first visit. All I knew was I had a nickel to spend and I were going to buy some thing.
There was a small display sitting innocently in one corner of the candy counter. I wasn't sure what I was look at, so like a fool I asked one of the sweet evil sisters what it was. The pusher lady told me that they were Guess-What boxes. For a nickel you would get a box of salt-water taffy and a prize. Wondering what this was all about, I asked for one of the boxes, Little did I know that I had just made the biggest mistake of my young life to date. Little did I know that my addiction was just starting.
I swear that that lady had me spotted as soon as I walked into the place. I just know she had me figured for a little rich kid who had no sense. I wasn't rich though. I had just enough money to start me on the long cold road to Hell. I had a nickel. A nickel that was burning a nickel size hole in my pocket. As you might have already guessed, I asked that sweet little old lady for one of Guess-What boxes. You know to this day I do not believe she gave me a box from the display, or maybe the box she gave me was marked in some way. You know, like the ducks you picked up at the fair with the number on the bottom that would determine the prize you won. Try, as many times as you could you never picked the duck that the man behind the tank would pick. You know the one with the number that got you the big stuffed animal. You would always get the little nothing prize.
This box that the sister gave me in exchange for my nickel. Wasn't one of the normal boxes sitting there. This box was one being saved for a rube like me. This box contained one of the most fascinating prize that a young lad as I could ever hope to find. To begin with the box was heavy. I didn't realize at the time it was heavy, because it was my first purchase. I only found out later just how heavy that box was.
The prize in this box was some type of photography experiment. You would take the included negative and place it on a special piece of paper and hold the thing up to a light bulb or point it at the sun and then in a little while a picture would appear on the paper. Of course I didn't do the experiment just right, so I wanted to try again. I wanted to try it this time with a negative of my own choosing, one from home. And instead of holding the thing up to the sun, this time I would use a light bulb in the table lamp sitting beside my bed at home.
The next day found me running home for dinner, eating as fast as I could and then running back to school in order to have time to buy another Guess-What box. I told my Grandmother I needed a nickel to buy a pencil. In the weeks to come that lie took several turns. I needed all sorts of stuff from then on. Of course when I got to the store with the pusher sisters lying in wait for me, and got another Guess-What box; I learned that getting another photograph experiment wasn't going to be easy. What I got in box number two was 4 pieces of taffy and a little plastic thing with a ring on it to make a necklace or something like that. You could find these things in the penny gum machines. This prize wasn't even as good as the prize you could find in the Cracker Jack boxes. I ate my candy and waited for the next day. Sure enough the next day another rip-off.
I could not stop buying the boxes, I was addicted. I lied, stolen, did everything I could to get money to feed my habit. When I was given money to eat at Pat's Cafe, I spent it on Guess-what boxes. I know the sisters were proud of themselves. I can't even think of just how much money I spent to feed my habit. I am sure I made them rich.
This habit was working on me in the worst way. I felt guilty every time I was given a box because I could tell as soon as I had my hand on it that it wasn't the box I was looking for. It didn't weigh enough to hold my coveted prize. I tried to give the box unopened to the sisters but they refused to take it back in exchange for another. And of course the boxes were behind glass so I couldn't choose the one I wanted. They did however let me point through the glass and say, I want that one. I remember once that I almost cried upon receiving the wrong box. The only good point about my addiction was that all the kids knew where they could get a free piece of taffy. Actually I was sick of it after a couple of years. I didn't know but some of the other boys in my class were having the same problem as I, but their problem involved baseball cards. They were looking for someone called Mickey something or Roger someone. So I did at least have some what of a support group to talk to, and was able from time to time able to trade taffy for gum.
I did at last break the addiction. One day the sisters retired and I think moved to Hawaii. The day was something of a disaster and then again when I think about it The start of a new addiction. I went to the store as usual when I was given enough money to eat at Pat's and there was a closed sign on the door. I stood at the door in disbelief wondering where I was going to get another supply of Guess-What boxes to search through for my prize, and also wondering how I was going to get through the day without my fix.
With a whole hour to kill and 50 cents in my pocket, I entered Pat's Cafe for the first time. The smells were wonderful. I sat at the time at the counter and looked at the menu. Not knowing what to order. I looked at the people to each side of me. On each of their plates sat a chiliburger that Pat was supposed to be famous for. When asked what I wanted, all I could do was point to the side and said whatever that is their eating. You guessed it. Hooked again.
Rod Smith