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WILKES-BARRE — It’s the most holy time of the year for Christians. But for kids, it’s still all about the candy.
I know it was for me. Yes, we got all dressed up and went off to Easter Sunday Mass and we were sure to fulfill our Easter duty by going to confession before the big day.
But when church was over and the big Easter meal was ingested, it was time to tear open the big Easter basket and start at it. Chocolate was everywhere — and good stuff, the solid chocolate, not that stuff that has a hollow center. We would crack open a big bunny or other item and start gnawing on it like a beaver on a log building a dam. It was soooooo good.
And a few white chocolate items were thrown in for good measure, plus some foil wrapped eggs and, of course, jelly beans.
These are childhood memories of long ago. My memories are the same as yours — we may not have grown up in the same neighborhood or town, but we grew up the same way, with the same values, the same traditions, the same lessons learned.
Holidays were always special times back in the day. And it was all about people getting together and having fun. Never did we have to check our Halloween candy for razor blades or rat poison. We weren’t afraid to knock on doors. We eagerly went into local bars to sing songs for quarters.
And Christmas was the best of times — great food, lots of family and friends, lots of presents and of course, the anticipation of Santa Claus dropping by.
Porch lights were always on. Screen doors allowed us to look inside and see if anybody was home. The doors were never locked. And nobody ever chased us away — we were always welcome.
Easter signaled the start of spring — warmer weather, April showers, flowers blooming, trout fishing and baseball tryouts. Those really were the days.
Yes, I confess I still long for those days. I wish I could fire up a real Way Back machine and return to those days of my youth. I would first visit my house at 210 Reynolds St., and take a nap on my bed. It would be a spring day and the smell of lilacs would come through my screened window. At some point, I would get up, pick a couple of cherries and then shoot some hoops in the backyard, or play some Wiffle ball.
I’d then return to Plymouth Little League and run the bases. I would hop the wall to Huber Field and see the Shawnee Indians playing Nanticoke on Thanksgiving Day. I would then stop at Bill Seras’ candy store for some chocolate and then head into Plymouth High School. I would visit with Coach John “Snoggy” Mergo and wait for him to blow his whistle in the old gym.
After school, I would head to basketball practice in the Gaylord Armory. I would stare at the horseshoe balcony and imagine making a game-winning shot at the buzzer, again against Nanticoke. I would walk down the steps to that dingy locker room where Coach Mergo and Coach Joe Evan delivered so many motivational pre-game and halftime talks.
Then over to Mergo’s Tavern for a couple of hot dogs and a coke. Steve Mergo would grill the dogs and put them on a soft bun he kept in drawers behind the counter. He would top them off with some mustard he said was mixed with a little beer.
I would then walk up and down Main Street to just see once again the Shawnee Theater, Hacker’s Market, Rea & Derick, Joe’s Pizza, Matus News, Al Wasley Jeweler, Boadmarkle’s, Golden Quality, Red’s Subs, Walt’s Servette, Max L. Fainberg Furniture, and so much more.
And there would be people everywhere — people we all knew and people we would never forget. This was our hometown. We were special, just like your town and people were.
And then back home for mom’s delicious dinner and maybe a little catch with dad in the yard. Maybe the other kids would come around and we would play stocking ball in the street, or up-against with a rubber ball, or hide and seek, or maybe Strat-O-Matic on the porch. Later on, we would listen to the Phillies or Yankees on a transistor radio.
We were all there, together. The memories will never fade.
They just keep getting better. Even the candy.
