Memory
When I was a little girl, back in the 1960’s, my mother’s Uncle Sam would give me Chiclets. We only saw him once or twice a year, but he always had Chiclets.
Every year, just before Rosh Hashanah, we’d drive to the Jewish cemetery in Staten Island, where my mother’s family is buried. We’d meet up with my mother’s relatives — my grandmother and aunts, my mother’s aunts, uncles and cousins. The cemetery would be very crowded, as it’s traditional for Jews to visit the graves of loved ones just before the High Holy Days. We wouldn’t be able to drive to the section where our family is buried because of the crowds, so we’d park at the main gate and walk. And Uncle Sam would hand out Chiclets.
So when I saw Chiclets at Bobb Howard’s on Saturday I had to buy them.
Funny how a simple piece of gum can invoke so many rich memories.
My Chiclets memory involves our neighborhood's kosher deli. They had a Chiclets vending machine and if I behaved, I was given a penny and could get a tiny box of Chiclets from the machine. Thank you for the memory!
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure
DeleteMy mother used to give them out on Halloween, little packets. I think so she could have any leftovers! They have the mini ones, multi-colored, in packets still. When my kids were little they loved them. My mother (of course!) gave them to them.
ReplyDeleteIs Uncle Sam gone now? You should visit his grave while chewing Chiclets.
ReplyDeleteGone a long time, sadly
Delete