THE BEST VIEW: Cotton candy

by Norma Best Boucher

I bought cotton candy today…in a bag. That’s right – that’s what I said – in a BAG. I was standing in line at a gas station store when I spied the blue spun sugar treat. Suddenly, I was bombarded with childhood memories of fairs, carnivals, Gene Autry, Annie Oakley and Rin Tin Tin.

By the time I had reached the check out, I had relived my cotton candy youth. I grabbed a bag of the blue minutely thin strands of sugar glass, paid for the bag and my diet drink refill, and ran to my car.

Childhood treasures, even cotton candy, must be guarded.

To eat or not to eat – that was the question.

I tore open the bag with my teeth, ripped off a chewing tobacco size lump of blue fluff, and popped it into my mouth. Pure sugar never tasted so good.

When I was young, my father took my mother, my Aunt May, my cousin Ann, and me to the fairs. We went to the Bangor, Skowhegan, and Windsor fairs. We all started out with a couple of dollars. Mamma and May played Bingo and won prizes. Ann and I rode the rides. Dad played the gambling games to pay for our fun. When we ran out of money, we went to him for another dollar and another dollar. I don’t remember all of the games, but I do remember the mouse game because I played it once as an adult. The mouse went to the slots after the cheese. I watched to see when the cheese ran out and won when there was only one hole left with cheese. I guess that was cheating, like counting cards, but there was only a small prize won and the fun of winning. I knew then how my father must have felt.

By the end of the night, Dad usually either broke even or was ahead in money.

Ann and I bought our cotton candy to eat on the way home in the car because if we had eaten earlier, we would have had sticky mouths and fingers for the fair. Our cotton candy was spun onto paper cones and puffier than what I had bought at the store in a bag. Our teeth and mouths were blue from the food coloring.

In the summers, carnivals came to Waterville, my hometown. These carnivals set up on the grounds at the old Colby College campus field house on College Avenue. There was an array of rides such as the Tilt-A-Whirl and the Ferris wheel, but my favorite ride was the swings. I had a love/ fear relationship with those swings. We were chained into child-like box seats that were connected by stronger chains to the top of the ride. When the ride was in motion, we swung out over the terrain. The Colby grounds were on the shoreline of the Kennebec River. Although we were always over solid land, we had the feeling we were flying over the river. At night the view was quite spectacular with the multi-colored carnival lights shining off the fast-flowing river. My fears dissipated with that shimmering view.

To amuse us on our walk back home on Elm Court, we all had cotton candy, blue teeth and mouths, and sticky fingers.

One of my most memorable childhood memories was in the mid 1950s when television series stars Gene Autry, Annie Oakley, and Rin Tin Tin came to that old Colby campus field house. I was about eight years old. One TV star would have been wonderful, but all three TV show stars was almost too exciting. So many young, hyper, screaming children in one building is almost too much to imagine now. We were well-behaved in those days, but we let loose when applause time came. No one had to hold up a sign to tell us to applaud. Television was new, in our living rooms, and now live on stage in our own hometown.

Cotton candy, once again, completed our happiness.

By now I had eaten half of that bag of cotton candy. With sticky fingers I pulled open the visor mirror and peered in. Yes…blue teeth and mouth.

The bag read, “No fats, no cholesterol, no sodium” – just 28 grams of sugar and cotton candy memories.

THE BEST VIEW: “Red, red robin”

American robin

by Norma Best-Boucher

I heard their singing through my closed windows and knew that I had to see them right then as they would leave the next morning before first light. I opened the gate from my patio, and there they were, hundreds of beautiful red breasted robins scattered all over the grounds. For those few short hours when they landed in our complex resting on their journey north, I once again enjoyed the company of one of my favorite birds.

In Florida, we have many pretty birds with their melodic songs. Even in our small, protected community there are many different birds from the coral-colored Roseate Spoonbills that feed nightly in our retention pond to the hawks that nest in the tree behind my house to the mockingbirds that sometimes sing throughout the night.

As spectacular as these birds are, they do not give me the thrill that the robins give me each year when they rest here on their way home.

I was a child of the late 1940s and 1950s. My mother, who later worked for 36 years as a first presser at the Hathaway Shirt Company, stayed home with me until I went to kindergarten or baby grade, as they called it then. To be able to stay home with me, she took in laundry. I woke up every morning to the soothing swish swashing sound of the ringer washer and went to bed every night watching her iron those clothes.

There were no televisions back then. We had the radio. My mother played that radio music all day as she did her work, and as little children do, I learned words to many of the songs that were played repeatedly over the air.

One of the songs that I loved to sing along with was Al Jolson’s When the Red, Red Robin (Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin’ Along).

If you are as old as I am, you, too, remember this song and like me also memorized the words and jazzy melody.

Each year when the robins visit, that song immediately comes to mind along with other memories of spring in Maine.

The giving of Easter lilies was a big deal back when I was a kid. When friends tired of the lilies after they had bloomed, these people gave the bulbs to my mother who faithfully planted them next to our house. She had a large bed of lilies that came up through the snow even before neighbors’ crocuses appeared. She was a marvel with those white trumpet flowers, and people enjoyed the display every year.

We knew spring was coming when a warmer day came between the colder days until eventually there were all warmer days. Then the dirty snow on the side of the road melted and green grass began to peek through the dead leaves on the lawn.

Spring happens so fast down here in Florida that if I blink, I miss it. That is why I am so happy with robin visits and my Maine spring memories.

Take heart, my dear Maine friends. Spring is coming. I have seen with my own eyes the robins flying north. In my mind’s eye I see my mother’s Easter lilies bravely popping up through a thin layer of snow, and I see my mother and me in the kitchen of my youth singing at the top of our lungs along with Al Jolson:

“I’m just a kid again, doing what I did again, singing a song.
When the red, red robin comes bob, bob, bobbin’ along.”

Norma Best-Boucher taught English at Lawrence High School, in Fairfield, and Winslow High School. She is a freelance writer.