The Candy Man

I know the Candy Man.

I can tell you what he looks like.

He has a bald head except for a few wayward hairs that have escaped extermination. He wears a cowboy hat. There is a twinkle in both of his blue eyes. He has some white stubble hidden in the creases in his face so the razor can’t snip it off. There is always a story on the tip of his tongue. He plays the fiddle. He is tall and lean. Two leather work gloves are either on his hands, in one hand, or on the arm of the furniture so he can grab them quickly. He would rather drive a tractor than a car. He would rather pee outside and has been known to make a trip outside just for the occasion. He has a big lap. His rough work hands can hold a delicate rose, stroke a soft baby chick, or pick up a little kid. A smile lives on his face. His ears don’t work too well unless something is said that he wants to hear. He would rather be piddling in the barn or outdoors than closed up in the house. He likes coffee with lots of cream and lots of sugar. Almost every meal is the best he has ever had. He likes candy. No, he loves candy.

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Any time we visited the Candy Man was a good day, but Thursdays were the best. You see, Thursday was the day the Candy Man and his Missus made the weekly trip to town. The Missus, Miss Margueritte, was the chauffeur. She took off her apron, put on a clean dress, brushed her hair nicely, stretched on her stockings, laced up her shoes, grabbed her purse and got in the driver’s seat. The Candy Man slid in the seat beside her. Kids, if they were lucky enough to be there on Thursday, climbed in the back.

On the way to town, the Candy Man talked about the pastures and barns of the places we passed, admired the cattle, commented on the gardens, told stories, and urged the Missus to sing the song about the Strawberry Roan. She never obliged. When the chauffer pulled into the parking place, everybody in the car piled out and headed through the front door of the store.

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My sister and I were with them on many occasions. While “Miss Margueritte” took her buggy to load down with groceries, we went with the Candy Man. Do you know where we went? Yep. To the candy aisle. The Candy Man loved hard butterscotch candy and soft peppermint sticks. He usually always had a supply stuffed in the drawer of the end table next to his side of the sofa. We got to pick what we wanted whether it was candy corn, caramels, circus peanuts, or other sweet treats, including chocolate candy bars. What we didn’t eat got pushed into the drawer for the Candy Man or for the next kid who visited.

Sometimes we even got to have a soda pop before going back to the house.

Candy Man was true to his name. He was one sweet man.

He loved candy even into his 97^th year.

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