As I have said on numerous occasions, my family was quite poor when I was growing up back in rural Georgia. Then again, poor or not, my daddy always gave my siblings and me an allowance. Yes, indeed, Vicki, Bud, and I each received a bright, shiny 50-cent piece every two weeks (well, unless some unexpected household expense arose), since that was how often Daddy was paid at Taylor Gas; and that 50-cent piece made the three of us feel as rich as the wealthiest kids in town. Not that there were that many rich kids in town, come to think of it. Well, there were the doctor’s three sons; the lawyer’s daughter, who later became a best-selling author, unlike yours truly; and, of course, the daughter of the owners of Vickers 5 & 10 Cent Store, which is where the Vicki, Bud, and I always headed, 50-cent piece clutched tightly in our hands, when Daddy took us to Fairburn to spend our hard-earned allowance.  Not that it was really all that hard-earned since we didn’t exactly have to chop cotton or plow the nonexistent north forty in order to earn it. We did, however, have to do chores around the house, like washing dishes, feeding the chickens, gathering the eggs, and, during the summer, picking the potato bugs off the potato plants, given Daddy was adverse to using toxic chemicals on anything intended for ingestion.

Anyway, as I was saying, we kids felt at least momentarily wealthy when we received our allowance; but back then in the good-old days, unlike today, 50 cents was a lot of money for a child. More important, a child could actually purchase quite a bit with such a magnificent sum. RC Colas were only a nickel; so were candy bars, Moon Pies, potato chips (good-sized bags at that), and boxes of eight Crayola Crayons. And for just a little more, one could buy all kinds of wonderful things, for example, coloring books filled with hundreds of pages; boxes of 64 Crayola Crayons; model airplanes and cars; paper dolls; comic books; and, last but certainly not least, given the horse lover I was, one could purchase bags filled with assorted plastic cowboys, Indians, and, yes, horses, including their tack, meaning little plastic saddles and bridles. Of course, I seem to recall that Bud, being a typical boy, preferred the bags of plastic soldiers (all invariably green) that he would line up in our sandbox, which the cats occasionally used as a little box, although we kids never gave that gruesome idea much thought, and proceed to annihilate with barrages of rocks, sticks, and the occasional rotten tomato. Still, regardless of what we kids fancied, we could usually obtain it for but a portion of that bright, shiny half-dollar.

On the other hand, if our fancy turned to something a bit more expensive than our 50-cents would buy, it really posed no problem, since Mrs. Vickers would allow us to put things on layaway. Yes, that’s right, she even allowed kids to use the layaway plan. And if we chose that route, we could pay whatever we wanted for as long as we wanted until we had paid the entire amount, after which the much-coveted item would become ours. Moreover, unlike today, if someone (child or adult) used the layaway plan, there was never any interest. But, like I said, this was back in the good old days. Yet, alas, I fear those days are gone and gone forever. Nowadays, if Vickers were still in business, it would be Vickers’ $50 and $100 Store; the shelves would be filled with electronic gizmos, violence-filled DVDs, obscenity-filled CDs, and celebrity magazines; and the interest rate on layaway items would probably be 50% compounded daily; plus, if you failed to make a payment, someone named Brutus or Bruno would call your home night and day and harangue you until you paid and paid in full.

Then again, today kids would not be content with a bright, shiny half dollar. In fact, if they saw one lying on the sidewalk, they probably would not bother even to pick it up. Not that anyone could blame them, I guess, since in today’s world, 50 cents won’t even buy a pack of gum.