Two weeks after my birthday, I'm flanked by candy wrappers and a bottomless gift box from the Old Time Candy Company. After eating my way through a layer of Jujubes, Kits, Mallow Cups, and candy bars I avoided as a kid, I feel a skooch unhealthy. Which is why I'm having a Charleston Chew for brunch. A little pick-me-up you understand. (The other day I had a Sky Bar with a side of Sixlets for breakfast—yeah, the diet's coming along fine.)
The magic 60s assortment box has taken on Lost-like overtones—if all there were to eat on the island were Zagnuts and Whoppers.
As with most nostalgic candy, memories shove themselves into your brain with each chomp. Like that time Terry Vilbrandt got an "A" on her science project just for putting some Red Hots in a test tube. C'mon! Or that pink Snaps tasted like soap and the white ones reminded us of Winkie's cage (something to do with living so close to the zoo). And why did we keep eating Caramel Creme Bulls-Eyes when they smacked of art paste?
The elusive Delfa Roll, Razzles, Lik-M-Aid, and both bubble gum and chocolate cigarettes.
(But the Chuckles, Pumpkin Seeds, Charms (both squared and suckered), were there. So were Necco Slap Stix, Black Jack Taffy, Walnettos, real candy cigs, and a cinnamon Hot Dog! two pack.)
•Brach's jelly nougat
•Neopolitan Coconut Sundae
•Sugar Daddy (not too soft, not too brittle)
•Bob's Sweet Stripes
•Butter Rum Life Savers
•Atkinson's Peanut Butter Bars and Chick-O-Sticks
Oy, I ate too much. Where is that fizzies packet, the one that looks like a condom?