Little Girl, Sweet and Tart

A piece of memoir by Joanie Leinbach nee Buckley, Spring 2021

I have this childhood story I have been telling for years that must have happened in 1972 or thereabouts. We lived in Northglenn, Colorado and I was six. I don’t know if I was kindergarten six or first grade six. That is to say, I don’t know how much wisdom I had attained at this point. I remember I was six because this story is also about a girl who lived down the street from me and she was five, and I was 1 year older. That was important because it made me her elder and the responsible one. 

Also, allow me an aside here. Part of the story is that I had these terrible food allergies that defined me for a long part of my childhood, so at 6, you can imagine me in the thick of it. I felt continuously deprived of food I saw other kids have. White, Wonderbread sandwiches (wheat,) candy and popsicles (corn syrup) and ice cream (dairy) were all forbidden along with a million other things, and thus they haunted my dreams. My mother would plug my ears when she heard music from the ice cream truck.  She sent me to parties with: Rice. Flour. Cupcakes!  So, naturally, I was a (mostly sober) candy addict.

Anyway, I recall parts of this story very clearly like the day it happened. The rest of the story has been preserved (by me) through spoken word. Now, don’t go telling me about the flawed nature of the oral tradition. That may be true of some stories, but this one really happened. 

More things you should know. Somehow I knew about Sweet Tarts despite my mom watching me like a hawk.  I will tell you that I capital L-O-V-E-D Sweet Tarts. I knew knew three things about them: 1) a package cost 10 cents  2) they were available at this one drugstore where I had gone with my mother, and 3) the ditch that ran under the steep street on my way to school was the same ditch that ran under the busy road where that store was located. Don’t ask me to explain how a six year-old had the cartography skills to map out a route from her house to an aisle of Sweet Tarts, but it is true. 

I approached this like a mission. There were some critical preparations to be made. First, I emptied my vinyl Barbie case of its usual tenants and their accessories. I think, in my mind,  I needed a briefcase of sorts. I honestly don’t know what I placed in this bag other than a dime, but it isn’t critical to the story. I wish I did remember, though because you would probably think it was adorable. 

Next, I needed an accomplice. Said five year-old. Why I brought this girl is beyond me because as you will see, she was honestly a hindrance to the mission. Personally, I think it was an ego thing on my part. I wanted a witness to my brilliance. 

We headed out and walked down Marion Way, then right and up the hill toward Leroy Elementary. Halfway up we slipped off the road to the left and started walking West along the bank of the ditch. We bobbed along amidst tall, dry grass. I don’t know how far we traveled, but, eventually, we came to a street that lives in my child mind as an interstate highway (it wasn’t.)  The cars went fast! But we were also fast and we made it across, I vaguely recollect having to walk on this road a bit before arriving at the strip mall housing the drugstore. Three for sure facts are that we went into the store, bought the candy and made it back across. Then, I remember being back on the other side and starting the long trek home retracing our route exactly. 

I don’t know if I opened my Sweet Tarts. I think they were in my Barbie case. But my accomplice was chowing down when we saw two girls in the distance. They were this girl’s sisters. I knew the candy was exhibit one of a punishable crime, so I encouraged her to drop the evidence before they took us into custody. But she refused and of course they knew exactly what we had done and they said, “Ummm, you are gonna be in so much trouble.” I did not have sisters as I was pretty much an only child (my brother was a baby, so he was not yet a snitch.) 

So my neighbor friend got, basically, dragged home by older elementary-aged kids and I took myself home. My mom was not there, but my dad was. I think he was supposed to be watching me. I have no sense at all that he was in ANY way concerned about my missing persons status. One thing you should know is that HE and his twin were the oldest of 6 other siblings, and six of these people were boys. You KNOW they got into their share of mischief. 

So I came clean to my dad. And you know, what? I did not get in trouble at all! I actually think he was impressed, like I was a chip off the old block. I remember the mom of the girl talking to my mom about what we did. My mother was pretty mad when she came into the house, but dad just said, “Doris, I have handled it.” That was great. I found out the other girl got a spanking, and her mom told my mom she was not allowed to play with me anymore. I can’t remember how I felt about that.  Here’s what else I don’t remember: did I make it home with the loot, or not?

© 2021 Joan M. Leinbach