Yesterday I wrote about being genetically predisposed to chocoholism. (Yeah, I know, that's not a word. I'm using what we writers like to call "poetic license." Dr. Seuss would approve of the approach, but not of my lack of creativity.) My mom read my blog, and then reminded me of another Hershey story from her childhood that I had nearly forgotten.
I'm going to let Mom tell it because I get some of my storytelling tendencies from her, too.
"I guess I told you more than once of the time we got a shipment of candy in, and my dad and I were in the basement of the store, where we marked the boxes according to what we were charged. He always added 1/3 to our price to get the retail price; that was for profit, and his cost of doing business. At that, we sold candy bars for a nickel, and six for a quarter. This was in the summer of 1949, before refrigerated trucks.
We opened a box of Hershey bars, and the chocolate had turned grey. That's what happens to chocolate that gets hot, and then cools. It doesn't affect its worth, just its texture a little bit. There were 24 to a box. My dad had this big brainstorm to keep us from asking for candy. He gave Ann and me each a box of milk chocolate Hershey bars with almonds. He said to not ask for another candy bar until they were gone.
This was our first month in the store, and up to that time, we were allowed to choose a candy bar for a 15 minute break at 3:00 each day. When 3:00 came the next day, I said, "Dad can I have a candy bar?"
He said, "Remember, you weren't going to ask for any until that whole box is gone." I replied that it was gone. He looked a little flabbergasted. (Ann had only eaten two of hers.)
It was the first time he really had to put a limit on such a thing. I was back to one Hershey bar a day. This incident was after the 'all-you-can-eat' session on our first day of having a candy counter.
People came in and asked for a nickel's worth or a dime's worth of whichever at our glass display case. We had a balance scale with a variety of weights that we put on the flat side of the scale, and then we measured the candy into a large scoop on the other side. Some candy was as little as .19 per pound, and the good chocolates were as high as .59 a pound (like nonpareils, bridge mix, M&Ms). Dad made sure we used the smallest bags that would hold just the amount the person bought and fold it over once; we couldn't waste bags."
Every family has its stories; its own legends. Our history just happens to center around chocolate. You can see why I smile every time I see a Hershey bar. It is so much more than candy to me. Hershey bars are love. Hershey bars are Mom.
|Love you, Mom!|
My Love of Chocolate is Genetic; I Blame Mom can be found in this link; just click the title. ;-)