How has society evolved so that it’s taboo to expose breasts, two of the most beautiful things God gave us, but acceptable for any garden-variety tree sloth to go barefoot? I know someone who grows her toe nails extra long to make her feet look thinner. Another has a penchant for slides yet the backs of her cankles resemble packed gravel. And why don’t they arrest women with bunions who insist on flip flops? And the guys? Why is it unseemly if a man enjoys a beer in a public park but okay for him to parade around in Tevas?

No, the mystery of the Tootsie Roll Pop isn’t How Many Licks—such endeavors are better left to the capable hands of Lil’ Kim—but instead the evanescent “star” that is located on select few wrappers. Intermixed between 1950’s children playing Kick the Can and Net Weight (0.60oz), sits the lone luminary body, with rumorours promises of additional ‘Pops, if only enough wrappers were collected. We believed such trifles, in the Eighties, when a quick search on the internet couldn’t disprove otherwise. We believed that there was a benevolent force that would reward our fidelity in the currency of youth.

They had some wonderful block parties on Topsfield Rd. It was just like the ‘Wonder Years’. My Wonder Years. Backyard Barbeques; roasting weenies and hamburgers with onions and garden fresh tomatoes. Picnic in our patio with speakers outside. Lets play some really cool music, ‘Rockin’ Robin’, ‘Charlie Brown’, Deep Purple, and the Chad Mitchell Trio with the “Whistlin Gypsy’. Scotch and Soda here’s mud in your eye. Boy do I feel higher than a kite can fly….And there was that really trendy cool and with it, wiener dog hors derve holder. All you needed was colorful toothpicks and some pickles.