Paul's Market

Back in the day, Aunt Millie and Uncle Paul owned a little grocery store out on West State Street, which they very cleverly called, Paul's Market. It was a quaint little place with vegetable and fruit shelves out front, (shelves, not bins) seemingly to attract customers, though I'm not sure the strategy worked. I assume they got the idea from an earlier business...the fruit stand they operated down in Lakeland, Florida, sometime before that. I never actually saw their fruit stand, but I have seen pictures of them standing in front of it. It was next door to the miniature golf course they managed, and of course, it was always sunny and warm in every photo. My guess is they did all right as long as the weather was tropical, but they packed up and moved back to Tennessee when winter rolled around. Or, when Millie got homesick. Either way, they ended up back in Bristol operating Paul's Market for many years. It was a huge treat for us kids when the folks took us out to the store. Millie and Paul were generous beyond words.
"You can each pick out three pieces of penny candy."
We were in hog heaven, but it was a tough choice.
There were the candy kits. They came in a pack with five chewy pieces and there were several flavors to choose from. I loved them all, especially the banana and chocolate ones.
We loved the wax colas, tiny little sixpacks of wax bottles filled with flavored sugar water. You could chew the wax after you drank the contents.
Then there were the ever-popular pixie sticks. Who didn't love those straws filled with sugar that was tart and sweet at the same time?
And bubblegum and jaw breakers and candy cigarettes.
I always wondered why we couldn't get five cents worth. But, no, they held us to three. That was how they rolled.
The best was when we got to go to Paul's Market at night. They stayed open til eleven p.m. back when nobody else did. Of course, nothing was different at that hour. They didn't get more generous the closer it got to closing time, but it still felt cool to be there late at night.
The worst was when DaddyDearest drove by their store one afternoon after work and caught a glimpse of the tomatoes Uncle Paul had on his shelves. Now I don't know how he recognized them from afar, but he did. Somehow he knew they were the very tomatoes he was growing in my grandfather's backyard, the ones that were intended for our family's consumption. Turned out he was right. Uncle Paul, who lived right next door to my grandfather, had spotted those beauties from his kitchen window and had taken the liberty to go out and clean the vines. Suffice to say, the shit hit the fan over that. And that may have been when the free candy dried up. All three cents worth.