PLYMOUTH — Today’s topic, class, is “Neighborhood Candy Stores.”Ahhh yes, those little shops, usually in somebody’s home, that sold all of those wonderful little items that we over-indulged in, like the famous penny candy items.

Every neighborhood had these little stores. Plymouth was no exception.

Time for another trip down memory lane — for me and everybody who grew up back in the 1950 and ’60s.

Right up our street Maslowski’s house had a bar on the first floor, but around back in the basement, Annie had a candy store. We would go there with 50 cents or a buck and load up a little brown bag of candy to savor all day. We would buy things like gold rocks, wax lips, candy cigarettes, Mary Janes, licorice rolls, satellite wafers, whistle pops, juice waxes, red hot dollars, licorice laces and our favorite — Topps baseball cards.

The problem here was once in a while, the neighborhood bully would lurk outside and when we came out, he would scare us and steal our bags of candy. This mad us very upset. Sometimes Annie would offer us a few items “on the house” to take away the sting of being victimized by the penny candy felon.

Around the corner of Second Street, Jack’s Market provided the neighborhood with many options. My mom would call Jack or his wife, Ann, every day and give her order — and it would be delivered by Picky Shusta in time for mom to make a delicious dinner.

For us kids, we savored many tantalizing items at Jack’s — it’s where I had my first Yoo-hoo chocolate drink, my first Tastykake, and my first Kickapoo Joy Juice. We also could by Fudgesicles and Creamsicles and ice cream sandwiches. I recall buying those delicious Drake’s Yodels there too — chocolate cake rolls with creamy vanilla swirled in between.

On the way to Central Elementary School, we would stop at Minnie’s on Orchard Street — a yellow house where Minnie had a little candy shop in her front room. Minnie was so nice. She had the patience of a saint. It could get pretty crowded in Minnie’s as kids tried to stock up on things our parents preferred we not buy.

Not far away, Klavonski’s on Shawnee Avenue was another stop. Magazines hung from above — comic books, sports books, news weeklies — and the farther back you went, the magazines became much more, shall I say, adult-oriented. Mr. Klavonski would always keep an eye on us as we approached puberty and our curiosity peaked almost daily. What did we know?

“That’s far enough young man,” he would say, stopping us in our inquisitive tracks.

Plymouth had so many of these little candy stores. And kids loved them. Parents were glad to have them around too.

These stores were indicative of the way of life back then. Neighborhoods were safe, friendly pockets in every small town in Wyoming Valley. That’s why our generation turned out so well — right Millennials and Generation Xers? Baby Boomers, as we have been labeled, have done pretty good by our parents, who raised us proper and set good examples for us.

I’m kidding, just a little. We still live in a great country and Northeastern Pennsylvania is a great place to live, work and play. No, we can never go back to those days of neighborhood candy stores and markets, but it sure is good to remember them.

And when you think of the amount of candy and sugar that kids consumed back then, it’s a wonder how we stayed in shape. Oh, I know, we played outside, in the fresh air. We rode our bicycles. We played games in the street. We took hikes, We walked to school — uphill both ways, as we tease, and in 3 feet of snow.

We climbed trees, we played tag, we ran, we laughed and we listened. And when we were done playing, we went home for supper. We sat at a table with our families and we ate home-cooked meals.

We all experienced the same things. We established friendships that will never fade. Even though only a fraction of our lives was spent in those neighborhoods, what we learned there molded us into who we went on to become.

Sometimes, I like to think about those days. I can taste a plum off the trees that grew in my backyard. Or a cherry from the side yard — the same cherry tree that my dad hung a stocking ball on a rope for me to practice my baseball swing.

I can see our neighbors — they are always smiling. I can hear my dad’s car backing up when he arrived from work. I can see the corner of Second and Reynolds streets where we hung out.

And I savor the taste of a root beer barrel candy from Minnie’s.

Reach Bill O’Boyle at 570-991-6118 or on Twitter @TLBillOBoyle, or email at [email protected]