WILKES-BARRE — The other day, while driving to my hometown of Plymouth, I turned off of Shawnee Avenue onto Gaylord Avenue, and as I came down the hill, I saw a vision of my youth.
Like a mirage, a Mister Softee truck was parked on the left side of Gaylord Avenue, and a small line of customers was waiting to order up their favorite treats.
I immediately recalled Reverend Jim “Iggy” Ignatowski, played masterfully by Christopher Lloyd on the hit 1970s TV show “Taxi.” Jim was “an angst-free former hippie and living embodiment of the 1960s whose brain was severely scrambled by extensive drug use.”
One of my favorite Rev. Jim quotes went, “I wonder about things, like, if they call an orange an ‘orange,’ then why don’t we call a banana a ‘yellow’ or an apple a ‘red’? Blueberries, I understand. But will someone explain gooseberries to me?”
So that’s where I believe I must have entered a time warp, or so I thought, and I wasn’t even in the Way Back Machine.
When I realized I was actually in Plymouth and that it really was 2026, I struggled to understand where this Mister Softee truck had come from.
I quickly dismissed any further wondering as I slowed down to view the side panels and the familiar logos, and to hear the familiar purr of the generator that kept all that ice cream cold.
And since I was now firmly planted back in the 1960s, I decided to continue the trip down Memory Lane and revisit all those great places Plymouth and most small towns had on their Main Streets back then.
With National Hot Dog Day rapidly approaching on July 15, and Joey Chestnut now an 18-time Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest champion after downing 66 hot dogs and buns in Coney Island, I stopped at Mergo’s for a couple of hot dogs.
We would always head to Mergo’s after basketball practice or before we walked up Main Street to C. Matus’ News to shoot some pool or hang out, leaning on a parking meter and watch those great cars of the era drive by.
Back then, you could immediately tell a car’s make and model on sight. It was easy because cars were spectacular back in the ’50s and ’60s.
Cars like GTOs, Camaros, Mustangs, Corvettes, Road Runners, Dodge Darts, Chevelles, Barricudas, Thunderbirds, Beetles, Ramblers, Studebakers, Corvairs, Pintos, Furys, Marlins, Gremlins, Mavericks, Firebirds, Cougars, Impalas, Fairlanes, Cutlasses, Continentals, Galaxys, El Dorados, Cordobas, LeSabres, Biscaynes, BelAirs, and many more.
They were so distinctive, and the color combinations were amazing — not to mention the power under the hood and the pompadour sported by the extremely cool driver.
These days, when my circle of friends gets together over a good dinner, we always talk about the great old days. Not the “good old days” — the “great” old days. Because to us, when we grew up, those days were great — for so many reasons.
Our get-togethers are always fun because they’re always about lifelong memories with forever friends. These are cherished memories — many made together.
It’s really good to remember — it’s even better to never forget. It’s about the best of times with the very best of friends.
We all hope to remain somewhat vibrant as we continue through our life’s path. And we still seem to be shining a light of hope and optimism, with a bit of satisfaction in lives well lived.
We talk about all sorts of memories — like shopping for school clothes prior to the start of every school year. On the Saturday before Labor Day back in the ‘50s and ‘60s, my mom would take me “overtown” to shop for new school clothes.
Mom would take me to American Clothing on South Main Street, and then to The Hub, and then to Fowler Dick & Walker, the Boston Store. Back in those days, we all dressed nicely for school. So did our teachers — coats and ties, shined shoes, nice dresses, jewelry, fancy hair-dos.
And we all behaved — well, for the most part. But we were about to enter the mid-to-late 1960s, when everything was changing — fashion, hairstyles, manners, morals, music.
The times they really were a-changing, but we made it through, and here we are today.
We had great parents who cared about us, and they worked very hard to make sure we turned out OK.
When we got home from school each day, we did our homework, and we sat down with our parents and ate dinner. Then, and only then, were we allowed to go outside and play for a while.
When the day was winding down, we would sit on our front porches and talk to our neighbors across the street, and we would watch those awesome cars go up and down, over and over.
We did our homework. We respected our teachers and our schools. We supported our teams. We formed forever friendships.
I’ve said this before, but the graduating classes of 1966 in Wyoming Valley marked the end of Smalltown USA. And many years later, we enjoy reminiscing about those days — managing to remember things we never had the time to learn.
So after recalling just how good a Mergo’s hot dog tasted, along with a cherry Coke from Rea & Derick and a CMP from Golden Quality, I took a ride out to Harveys Lake and came back over Plymouth Mountain.
It was a trip filled with memories and visions of days gone by in this Mister Softee world.
Local journalism matters, and your support makes it possible. You can help sustain this work by making a donation or choosing one of our subscription options. Subscribers enjoy valuable benefits, including full access to our e-edition, a reduced ad experience on timesleader.com, and more.
Your support helps ensure independent, high-quality local news remains available today and for future generations. Thank you for standing with local journalism.
Reach Bill O’Boyle at 570-991-6118 or on Twitter @TLBillOBoyle.