Know where this stuff takes me? Right back to the mid 1970's, riding in the station wagon, windows rolled down for 55/4 "air conditioning," Mother driving us three kids over by the dam after leaving Grandma and Granddaddy's house, stopping at the little country store, and picking out candy.
These were one of my favorites! Give ya a hint. The name has something to do with the number of candies in the picture. Did ya guess? Yep, Sixlets. Ugh. I loved these things!
I bought some the other day. Ugh. I loved these things?? Until this morning, some three decades after I used to delight in these things called Sixlets, I had never made a connection of any sort to explain the name. There are way more than six pieces of candy in one of these little packages. I only see five different colors in the package. Maybe only a six year old could love them? Nah, can't be it, since I also loved them when I was 7, 8, 9, 10, and even 20. The eureka moment just hit me, though, because after I took the above pictures, I popped those pretty little round globs of what tastes like cocoa flavored Crisco and sugar into my mouth. Ugh. "Six-lets" is obviously a play on words, a mix of the words kidlets and sick. Yep, sick. Ugh.
I know why I liked them as a kid, though. I really do. It was fascinating to get a whole long tube filled with these little candies. I vaguely remember them coming in a long slender tube, too, one just wide enough to hold a single piece of candy, making a long slinky tube of candy. Another allure of the Sixlet was the very loose connection to chocolate candy. Believe it or not, I didn't like chocolate when I was younger. Eat Sixlets or Milk Duds or any other chocolate imposter, and you look like a cool, chocolate loving dude. . .to other little kids.
Well, here I sit, thinking I should've been writing you a post about this cool blog award from Elaine's blog, but instead I'm contemplating how to describe those little country stores from my childhood. Actually, they were from my mom's childhood, these little Mom and Pop one room stores scattered about the countryside where my mom spent her childhood. I'm not saying they were lost in time, but I'm pretty sure you could've walked into Sam's little store, grabbed your own slice of pickle bologna with a handful of crackers, left some change on the counter, and gone about your merry way as long as you gave the hound dogs a pat on the head. Those were some big hound dogs, too. From what I remember, they liked to lay in the dark corner by the pinball machine. Dang! That is lost in time, isn't it? Hound dogs laying inside the store.
It was always dark in there, too. But dark was a fairly good thing on a hot summer day. You'd jump out of the car barefoot, sizzling the soles of your summer tough feet as you walked across the blacktop. Whew, walk out of the glaring sun into that dark, cool store, and your whole body let out a sigh of relief. Wish I could take you there.