Goodhearts Grocery Store

Growing up in a small midwestern town may have led to me being a little niave when I went off to college but I would not have traded it for anything.
As I continue my trip down memory lane the next stop is Max and Helen Goodheart's neoghborhood grocery store.
Next up the street from my grandparents house was Goodhearts grocery store. A place that holds some of my earliest memories. Dad worked at the Oliver tractor factory a few blocks the other direction on North Grand Ave. so I spent a lot of my early childhood basically being raised by Grandpa Gilbert and Grandma Jean. It was a magical time in a land of adventure and some of my favorite adventures of all were my forays into Goodhearts grocery.
Being all of 5 years old Goodhearts was one of the few places I was really allowed to wander off to unsupervised since Max and Helen were friends of my grandparents. If I close my eyes and let my mind drift back in time I can still see it.
A late summer afternoon, I pushed open the single door as the bell attached to a piece of spring tension metal rang as it was struck by the doors frame...ding ding ding...it announced my arrival. Rays of sunshine penetrating the artificial light and dust in the air like an otherworldly sign pointing the way to my destination.
"Well good afternoon woodchuck" (Grandpas knickname for me) Mr Goodheart exclaimed from behind the meat counter wiping his hands on the front of his white buthchers apron. "What are you up to today?" Mr Goodheart knew why I was there...the same reason I was always there. In my pocket was a shiny new quarter that I had earned helping to water the garden driving my craving for penny candies.
I stood there nearly trembling with anticipation in front of the rows of jars filled with candies of all shapes and colors....root beer barrels, red hots, lemon drops, peppermints, watermelon sours...the choices seemed endless. My head began to spin contemplating the possible combinations. I was intoxicated with sugar lust...intoxicated I tell you. I reached for a sack and began picking out 25 pieces of heaven in a clear plastic wrapper. Mr Goodheart always reached in the jars and threw in a few more pieces for good measure.
Goodhearts grocery, my grandparents and I , and Max and Helen had all survived an F5 tornado the year before, a bond that even after their passing still exixts to this day.

Yesterday I drove back there to reminisce with them and laid flowers on their graves. I drove to Goodhearts Grocery on North Grand Ave. The building is still there. It's a cabinet shop now, but when I stood outside and peered through the window all I could see was Max behind the counter and all of those rows of magical jars filled with candy.