Pistachio dreams

It’s a funny thing, memory. I remember we went to the laundromat once a week. I also remember going in the evening after supper. But I also remember going on Saturday afternoons. 

In Topanga, we started out with our washing machine from Santa Monica, and the clothesline that could turn for easy access. It was really the staple setup, midcentury. But the water was harder in the Canyon and soon my parents gave up on the repairs. The laundromat in Woodland Hills became a routine. The immediate neighborhood became a known territory. 

I was 9 or 10 when I began to have some freedom of that territory, but only when it was light out. After the clothes were unloaded and in the machines, I was allowed an escape. This was especially true when my friend, Beth, had come along. 

Sometimes we would walk the block. We would visit the hobby store a few doors down. Usually we would have a bit of change, or even a dollar birthday money. We could get a small bag of mixed seed beads to string groovy necklaces. Or cut through the back parking lot to the back door of the liquor store. There I might get a small pack of Sweet Tarts or Walnetto’s if I didn’t have enough for a chocolate bar. 

The best, though, was when we got permission to cross Ventura Blvd and go to Thrifty Drug Store. There, we would goggle at the Damn Dolls (trolls) that were beyond our means. Our parents did not understand why we would want the ugly dolls so badly. We would wander the wide, bright isles. Of course the toy aisle had its charm. The bigger draw, though, was the bargain bin tables in the front. We would dig through the 3 for $1 costume jewelry. 

But the best part, often our only purchase, was on the way out. The Icecream counter. Sometimes we had enough for only one scoop each, and what a hard decision. Even if we had enough for 3, experience had taught us that way led to a melting disaster. 2 scoops was best, 10 cents, the same as a load in the dryer. 

Beth usually got something with chocolate, but my favorite was pistachio cashew. My second favorite was black cherry. At some point or another, though, we had tried most of them. And having that sweet, cold break got us through helping with the folding back in the hot laundromat before heading home. 

I did eventually get a troll with pink hair as a birthday gift. I remember the burning envy I felt when my mom bought a 72! box of crayons for me to give as a birthday gift. The box had a built-in sharpener! One time my mom bought me a pair of moss green corduroy sneakers on sale that I wore till my toes were cramped and wearing through. 

I clearly remember my first pantyhose out of an egg. So much easier than dealing with a garter belt. Somewhere my daughter still has a pair of earrings I bought from one of the bargain tables for my mom one Christmas. She got so many compliments when she wore the art deco style Egyptian looking baubles, that she kept them her whole life. When my brother gave me $5 for my 13th birthday, I was thrilled to be able to buy my first Album. It was Simon and Garfunkel, Parsley, Sage, Rosemary &Thyme. Later it was the first CD bought and even later the first music I downloaded for my IPod. 

When I first moved back to California in the 1970s I applied to work at a Thrifty's. I think, because I had just moved from Florida, the manager expected a southern accent when he interviewed me. I bet if I had walked in faking one, it would have gotten me the job. 

When Thrifty’s became Rite-Aide they still had the original ice cream counters. Over time pistachio cashew became pistachio nut. Of course the prices increased. Blame newer stores and big box stores. Blame the pandemic or the economy. Times change and demands change. The Thrifty Ice Cream counter is lost to us. The last Rite-Aide closed the doors a few weeks ago. 

I hear you can still buy Thrifty Brand Ice Cream from Ralph’s Grocery Store. You can even use Instacart and get it delivered. But they still won’t have pistachio cashew or the best $3 sneakers ever.