"Mama! The Chocolate's Here!"

I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor of the Jennings Building and ran down the two hallways that formed an “L” to get to Apartment 8. By the time I arrived, I was out of breath.

Mama dried her hands on a dishtowel. “Where’s the fire?” That wasn’t very funny, considering that the Jennings Building suffered a fire of some sort on one of its three levels every few months.

“The candy’s in!” Mama knew why I was dancing a jig around the kitchen.

 “Settle down, Sharon Kay. Do they have the Wayne peanut clusters with the maple filling?”

 “Yes, ma’am!” They’re opening the boxes and filling the bins now. They have both kinds—the maple and the vanilla. And they got chocolate stars and kisses and chocolate covered peanuts and raisins and vanilla drops and toffee and…”

 “Whoa! Slow down, girl.” She went to her pocketbook, pulled out her change purse, and handed me a quarter. “Get twenty-five cents’ worth of the maple crème nut clusters.”

 “Yes, ma’am! They got hazelnut snowballs, too.”

 “Good. That will be for another week. Just the clusters today.”

The ladies at the candy counter of Murphy’s dimestore knew me by name. They also knew I had just been in the store taking inventory of the shipment of the season’s first chocolate candy. Several of the candy bins were heaped with fresh, shiny chocolate candy already. It was a big deal when the first chocolate of autumn arrived.

Stores didn’t carry chocolate candy in the summertime for two reasons. First, it would melt. Second, the worms would come. Too often I had bought leftover chocolate candy bars at Hook’s Drug Store, only to open them and find tiny worms crawling around. I’m sure they were the larva of something or other that also liked chocolate. Mama said she thought the eggs must already have been in the chocolate, waiting to hatch when warm weather came and the chocolate was soft. That’s a mystery I never solved.

The two ladies who worked the counter greeted me with broad smiles.

 “Twice in one day?” said the shorter and plumper of the two. “What can I get for you?”

 “A quarter’s worth of the maple clusters, please.” I had the quarter and a dime ready to hand over. While I waited, breathing in the fragrance of all the candies mingled together, I eyed the chocolate covered mixed nuts. How I longed to buy some of those! Brazil nuts, cashews, almonds, pecans—all covered with a thick coating of chocolate deliciousness. But, alas, they were too rich for my…Mama’s…pocketbook. Someday. Someday. 

The clerk handed the white sack over the counter. “Anything else?”

 “Yes, please. Ten cents’ worth of the Spanish peanuts.” 

I paid for those with my own money. I always appreciated it when folks would drink their soda pop and leave the empty bottles standing up against a building or laying in the gravel along the train tracks. I’d gather them up and take them to the corner newsstand, where the owner would give me two cents deposit back for each bottle, as long as it was in good shape. Two cents plus two cents plus two cents plus two cents plus two cents equaled enough to buy two ounces of warm, freshly roasted Spanish peanuts. Looking back with grown-up eyes, I think those salesclerks, sweet ladies that they were, sometimes gave me a wee bit more than I paid for.

 When I got home with the Wayne maple crème peanut clusters, Mama already had the coffee brewing. Fresh chocolate was an event, and Mama made it into a special memory, as well. She limited our intake for that day to two clusters each, to make sure that we had a couple more days’ worth of celebration.

Moral of the story? Don’t take your chocolate for granted. Four months without it is a long time.

That Tuesday with Annabelle

 Think of the perfect September day. August’s sultry dog days are history. Puffball clouds drift across the azure sky. The colors of autumn are starting to wash over early-turning trees.

That Tuesday was the perfect September day. Morning news droned from the TV, as I hurried around to get ready to meet my friend Annabelle at Cracker Barrel for breakfast.

“We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news.” The announcer’s voice carried a heavy weight of import. I froze in my steps and pivoted to face the TV. He explained the horror I saw on the screen. A plane had flown into one of the twin towers of the World Trade Center.

I immediately called Annabelle. “Is your TV on? If not, turn it on now!” I gripped the phone tightly while I awaited her return.

Her voice trembled. “Oh, no! Dear Lord, n…!”

“Nooooooooooooo!” I screamed as a second plane flew into the other twin.

Hearing the first report, I thought it surely was an accident. Had the pilot suffered a heart attack? Had some control gone awry? What happened? When the second plane hit, I, along with the rest of the world, knew it was no accident. The United States of America was under attack!

My friend and I were greatly shaken. For a few moments, we prayed and wept together.

“Do you still want to meet for breakfast?” I said.

“Yes. I need to.”

“So do I.”

I couldn’t believe Cracker Barrel. Everything was business as usual. What had I expected? A pall? A somberness? Something. Yes.

The hostess greeted us cheerfully and seated us immediately. We put in our coffee orders and opened the menus—which we ignored, as we looked around the restaurant. People were talking and laughing, sipping coffee, clattering silverware against earthenware plates.

“They don’t have a clue, Annabelle. They don’t know what has happened.” I had to restrain myself, because I wanted to stand up and let them know that this morning their world had changed forever. No. Let them laugh. Let them enjoy a few more minutes of peace. They’ll know soon enough.

My favorite server came to take our orders.

“Have you heard the news?” I said.

Her smile vanished. “Yes. We’re listening in the kitchen.”

Going our separate ways after breakfast was hard. We recognized that we had shared a significant historical tragedy, one that every American living at the time and old enough to understand would have a story to tell. I know I will never forget that Tuesday with Annabelle.