Daily Treats

My mother never drove. She was one of those 'southern ladies', who went through life with her husband taking care of everything. She didn't even know how to balance a checkbook. But, she always made sure she had what she needed for us and to run a home.

Every evening, when he got home from work and had dinner, my father would drive my mother up to the little market up the street. We would all load up in our old Packard and drive to Ward's market, a family-run produce and meat market, derived from a road-side stand. They had sawdust floors. It was a fun place to go as the Wards were really nice people. (They are still in business - bigger and better)

My mother's father had been a green grocer, owning markets, himself. Because of this, and because refrigeration had come into it's own in her lifetime, mom only bought what she could use for the next day or two. Mom would purchase whatever she needed, milk, bread, a cut of meat for the next day's meal. Then, in a ritual which spanned my entire childhood, she would get us all a treat. My brother liked ice cream sandwiches and I like fudge cycles. Mom always bought a book or magazine, as well as, a soft drink and candy bar, or whatever. Dad rarely got anything, but, loved ice cream if we had it.

As small children, we rode along on these nightly jaunts to the store. As we got older, either my brother, or myself, would stay home, too busy playing to leave. However, the treats still came. We expected it.

Every night, without fail, this little ritual played out, varying only slightly through the years. Occasionally, our collie dog, Lady Bug, got her treat, too. She was keen on ice cream sandwiches, herself. Treats in hand, Mom would retire to her room to read. My brother and I, parked in front of the television, watching whatever dad was watching, sat and enjoyed every lick of our daily reward. After we had finished, there wasn't much left to our evenings except bedtime.

There are so many things that I remember from my childhood. I can recall certain toys, games or dolls. I can remember some of the children in the neighborhood and the woods where we played. I remember my bedroom and our huge side porch where we played. But, to this day, when I see ice cream sandwiches or fudge cycles, I am reminded of my brother and I, sitting in the car outside Ward's market, waiting for mom and dad to return with out stash of goodies. Or, the group of us, sitting in our favorite spots, quietly devouring out frozen confections, to the sounds of Ed Sullivan on the television.