Mud Turtle and the Candy Man!

I have made several references, in chapters past, about the tiny hamlet I grew up in. Mokena, an Algonquin Indian name meaning "mud turtle," sits about 25 miles southwest of Chicago, and 18 miles from the Indiana border. Nestled a mere mile from U.S. Interstate 80, Mokena was close enough to the big city to enjoy the culture of Chi-Town and then return home to cornfields, cows, horses and forests. I will never forget the sign that welcomed residents and travellers alike as they entered the village. It read, "Mokena, population 4818." I always thought it was cool that they didn't round the number up or down. It struck me as being unique to list the facts. I wasn't sure if the exact number of residents listed was a reflection of the small town mentality or of a fierce statement of the pride our community took in its meager population. I saw it as both and loved it.

Mokena sprang up around a farming community. It's strategic placement made delivering crops to market along the Lincoln-Highway. It was the first interstate road to go coast to coast, long before the super highways of today. When I-80 was commissioned by Eisenhower, Mokena sat smack dab in the middle of two routes that could take you from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The Joliet train line could take, the newly coined term "commuter," to Chicago and back dropping the rider off in the center of Front street.

Front street was the mini-mecca of commerce and activity for Mokena's inhabitants. It ran east and west intersecting the other main drag, Wolf road. Front street was where it happened. It was the hip and happening hangout for the teenagers and kids of Mayberry Jr. On the corner of Wolf and Front sat Hawk's Gas station. It was one of 3 gas stations I can remember around town. I vividly remember gas being 50 cents a gallon, regular. Cigarettes were also the same price and could be purchased with a note from a parent or adult. How times have changed.

The whole strip of the businesses stretched out approximately 1 half mile at best, and was more close to a quarter of that. The visitor to Front street was first greeted by the local post office. It was brick and blue and the size of a 4 car garage. Next came Wilbur's. I loved Wilbur's store. Owned and operated by Wilbur himself, the store came complete with wooden planked floors and the familiar odor of aging meat. But the center of my attention, and that of all of my friends, was Wilbur's candy rack.

This was the Shangri-La of sugar treats. The display stood 10 feet high, as best as I could figure, and offered its treats at an unbelievable "2 pieces for a penny." That's 1/2 cent candy! There is a God! Incidentally the town's dentist's name was Dr. Killian, a proper title for him. I smarted after my first dental visit. Now back to candy land. The monstrous sweets rack stood just right of the check out counter. The cash register clanged a familiar clanking chime as the drawer popped out at the end of each purchase. When you approached the candy grail, Wilbur handed you a tiny paper bag to fill with the sugary booty that awaited.

I hated math but loved that I could calculate that for a quarter I could get an astounding 50 PIECES of yummy treats. There were carmels, Mary Janes, Jolly Ranchers and gum balls. I paid close attention to my choices and kept my 50 piece count running total in my tiny racing mind. There were foam-like discs that spilled tiny candy specks into your mouth a few moments after sucking on them. Don't forget the receipt-like sheets of paper blobbed with edible colored dots. You would gnaw each dot off the sheet and swallow half of the paper with it. Pieces of gum, dum-dum's and jawbreakers fell into my bag. Yes! I still have 26 pieces to go.

My heart pounded and my mind raced as I counted down the remaining goodies I could get into that tiny brown bag. There were little paper tubes filled with Kool-Aid-like powder. Unfortunately when you poured it in water instead of your mouth the drink was nothing more than colored water. Lemon Heads, Zotz, licorice whips and bottle caps danced before my eyes. I began to panic when I was down to my last dozen choices. What would I choose? I still hadn't looked through half the rack! 1 butterscotch, 1 barrelhead, 1 Bazooka, 1 candy cigarette that puffed out powdered sugar when you blew into it. I was down to the last 8. It was time to hunker down and take extra precaution choosing these last delectable delights. Okay here we go! 1 more bazooka because I'm saving wrappers for the x-ray glasses. 1 more "Now-n-Later, watermelon of course. 6 left. Choose wisely young Skywalker.

Oh, I forgot bulls eyes! I'll take two of those. The last four left me flush and anxious, concerned that I would make a choice I would surely regret later. 1 peppermint, check! Forget it! I hate peppermints and if I want one Grams has got a whole jar full of them. That's old people candy. Make that, 1 gold chocolate coin. Check! 1more chocolate carmel. Double check! The heat was on. Just do it old boy, pick the last 2. Okay! Okay! 2 atomic fire balls and my mission was complete. I sighed with relief. My tiny bag felt like it weighed 10 pounds in my wee hands. I would have a sugar buzz and sick stomach before lunch time even got there. It was mission accomplished.

I laid my booty on the counter as Wilbur carefully counted each piece "one, two, three." He was a kindly gentleman, but couldn't he bring up a faster counter from the back of the store? By the time he got to 50 I thought I would go out of my mind. My mouth was beginning to water as it sensed a sugary heaven was only a few moments ahead. "That's 50! There is 2 cents tax so you'll have to put four pieces back." What, are you crazy! That's like trying to decide what baseball card should be thrown out of the pack! Hesitation and remorse filled me as I put 2 Bazookas and 2 red licorice back in their bins. Don't worry my tasty friends! I shall return to make you mine once again. The transaction was complete. I ran out the door with my haul and sat down on the cement steps that fronted the store. Now where do I start?