Dear Reader,

When I was a kid, Minnie’s was tucked in-between a barber and butcher shop on Main Street and it was my favorite store. Minnie sold penny candy.

It was an unusual looking store, a small facade with a front window that never changed its look and a screened door on the left-hand side. The inside of the store was dimly lit, and in order to reach the penny candy, kids had to walk along side of a long display counter in the center, that divided the narrow store in half. Kind of like a salad bar, you could access the trinkets and other gift items displayed on the center counter from either side. But I never paid much attention to those things. I was only interested in the penny candy.

The penny candies, in their original boxes, were on a counter at the very back of the store. The boxes were just low enough, so any sized kid who was old enough to pick out their own candy, could reach them. And Minnie would stand behind the counter. Minnie’s was popular, sometimes the line of kids would run the length of the store. Wait my turn and when I finally reached the penny candy counter, Minnie would hand me a small brown paper bag and then I’d have to decide.

Every piece of candy in the boxes was one penny. My favorite was the red and black licorice wheels that had a small piece of cut-in-half, colored candy in the center. Ten cents worth of candy was just right–a quarters’ worth, and my stomach would be aching by the time I got home, because I always ate the whole bag in one sitting.

Of course Minnie’s Store has been gone for a long time now, but the last time I went home to visit, some old school friends stopped by the house and in the midst of the talking about the good old days, someone mentioned Minnie and her penny candy store.

“Red wax candy lips, the little candy dots on the long strips of white paper, pixie straws,” everybody was talking about their favorite kind of candy they used to buy at Minnie’s.

And that’s when a guy, who was two years behind me in school but now a grown man with children of his own, said, “Oh yea, I remember Minnie. My friends and I used to go in there and steal stuff like crazy. She was such an old woman she never knew the difference.”

‘Did this guy just say he used to steal from Minnie?’

The conversation went silent. Everybody’s eyes were surveying everyone else’s in the circle of old friends. Clearly other people in the room were appalled by this guy’s comments, but no one said anything and neither did I. Someone changed the subject and the conversation continued on.

So, there I sat, a few minutes ago I was feeling all warm and fuzzy thinking about Minnie’s penny candy, picking out my favorites, filling up my little brown bag, then walking to the park and eating it all in one sitting. And now this guy says he used to steal from Minnie–and apparently he still thinks it’s funny and he’s even boasting about it.

I was furious, but I never spoke up. I just sat there. Thoughts were racing through my mind, a seesaw of anger and guilt…

‘I should tell this guy off.’

‘Wait a minute, I stole something when I was a kid.’

‘But I never stole from Minnie.’

‘He stole stuff from a little old lady trying to pay her light bill by selling penny candy.’

‘How can I chastise this guy, stealing is stealing?’

‘But he’s an adult now and he’s still proud of it’–ah, there was the permission I needed to give him a piece of my mind, but still, I never said a thing.

I felt like I let Minnie down that day and the truth is I did. I didn’t stand up for the woman who used to sell me penny candy, the woman who gave me wonderful childhood memories. Shame on that guy for still boasting about stealing from Minnie, but even more, “Shame on me” for just sitting there and saying nothing.

When I didn’t say anything that day, what I was really doing was laughing right along with the guy. There’s no second chance to right that wrong. But today I’d like to remember Minnie, and in my own way, thank her for giving this “kid” a wonderful childhood memory.

So here’s to Minnie’s penny candy legacy. And the next time I find myself in a situation where I should speak up, I hope I think of Minnie and that I have the courage to say what’s on my mind.

Thanks for reading with me. It’s so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com