SERVING UP A CURE

The Flaming Bore has been on medical leave of absence for the past week. The good news is: the medical bills didn’t total anywhere near to what was amassed with the water leak bills the previous week.

We have just one pharmacy is our little town, down from three a few decades ago. It’s a no-frills, drugs-only establishment, which is fine with me. The staff is friendly, knowledgable, and lets me loiter while waiting for my prescriptions to be filled. They dish out sympathy while I piss and moan about my ailments, and when other customers come in we can all just sit around and piss and moan together. Misery loves company.

When I was growing up in Fredonia, there were two drug stores on the south side of the square. City Drug was owned by Ben Baldridge, a laconic, bespectacled man, and Wiggans Drug was owned by Tom Wiggans, energetic, chatting it up, hustling about the store--kind of the opposite of Mr. Baldridge.

Now, when I was a kid I was one of those perfect attendance, never-get-sick kind of kids who rarely had a prescription to take to either of the local pharmaceuticals; however, that didn’t keep me from being a regular customer at both the City and Wiggans. You see, both places were a social mecca for teen-agers in the 1950s and ‘60s because they had SODA FOUNTAINS and BOOTHS!! Scoot over, sit down, and I’ll tell you all about it.

The City’s hangout was older, cavernous, and more imposing than at Wiggans. The booths were made of dark wood that sort of formed a wall, giving each one more privacy. You didn’t know who else was there unless you booth-hopped around; whereas Wiggans had a low seating, open-air, brighter environment. One foot into the door, you pretty much knew who was there. Wiggans also had a great jukebox at the back of the booth area where I spent many a coin. One Saturday afternoon some of my pals and I played a cool new version of "Deep Purple" over and over and over again. It was sung by the dynamic brother and sister duo Nino Temple and April Stevens. You remember them, don't you?

Both drug stores had a fine assortment of soda fountain drinks. My favorites were the cherry phosphate and vanilla Pepsi. I don't recall buying the ice cream treats, probably because I never had enough money, but I often sprung for a 10-cent bag of Guy’s barbecue potato chips to dip into my choice of beverage, all of which sound rather nauseating right now--especially since I’m having one of my famous brain-buzzing tinnitus attacks.

I think it’s time to stop this blog and go pop some pills.