Christmas and peppermint candy


Pilfering sounds like an act of something associated with something dishonorable.

In the story to follow you will find out it certainly is and comes with a price.

Kind of like: ain’t nothing free, and if it is, it ain’t worth having.

I learned that in my early growing-up years, but it took a lot of losing some of the skin off my rear end.

No telling how many times my mama wore out a timber switch on my little legs, arms and rear.

Most folks called it a trip to the woodshed, but mama didn’t care if it was in the living room, the bathroom, the bedroom or in the back yard — long as the job got done and it always did.

The reason for the whuppin’ was my pilfering peppermint candy from the candy dish on the nightstand beside my grandmother’s bed.

Christmas and peppermint candy, the soft old-fashioned kind, go together like Santa and his elves.

It still does and a plastic bucket of the delicious little clumps is always visible in my house.

It is the little puffs that melt in your mouth, not the hard kind.

The Red Bird brand has been on the market in this country for many years — since the late 1890s right here in North Carolina.

It was then and is now manufactured in Lexington.

Another, just as good, is Bob’s Striped Peppermints. They have been around since the 1920s.

The peppermints were also sold on the streets of London in the mid-1800s.

The plastic buckets we buy around here from department candy shelves have a count of 200 and sell for less than $8.

Both the Red Bird and Bob’s are the real McCoy. You simply cannot eat just one.

However, I would strongly suggest if there are any wild young’uns out there today that they seek their peppermints from Santa, and not from granny’s candy dish.

Whatever the punishment young’uns get today surely can be no worse than running around a room trying to escape the stings of a switch slashing through the air with a sound of a bullwhip.

It surely left whelps that continued to hurt right on through the day or night.

I still don’t believe it about “it hurts me worse than you.”

Ironically, an older sister just the other day confessed to me that all my sisters and brother got their share of the delightful peppermints from pilfering gran’ma’s candy dish.

I always got blamed for it and took the hit.

I hope my hollerin’ and screamin’ made my siblings feel guilty.

Somehow or another, I don’t think it did.

William Holloman is a staff writer for the Mount Olive Tribune.


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