High Noon at the OK Corral…Ma Burton’s

It was 3 pm. The air was humid and hot and Main street was blistering in the midwestern sun. We were sweaty and tired  from the long Oblong Elementary trek to our favorite watering hole, Ma Burton’s soda and candy shoppe on east Main. We were small and frail, beaten down from a day of learning and behaving. Driven by thirst and a desire to “ break the rules”, and oh yes…CANDY…It was High Noon at the OK Corral. ( Imagine : rawhide whip crack and some weird cowboy whistling in the background ) Are you with me?

As the saloon’s old screen door slowly squeaked opened, allowing the afternoon light rays to reveal the dust filled aire siluoetting our tiny, desperate bodies…we knew we had arrived. Trembling with excitement and fear, with no ammo to fall back on, only our tiny backpacks full of dreaded homework and uneaten lunches, we entered this musty, ancient, archival place that was straight out of Raiders of the Lost Arc. Once a vibrant pharmacy run by Ma Burton’s late husband, it was now this embalmed place. It was frozen in time and filled with old pencils, mildewed wallpaper rolls from the ‘20s, bug spray, turpentine and the best cherry phosphates west of the Wabash River . Ma Burton had a disdain for children, especially the ones that twirled on her soda stools. We weren’t allowed to spin, so.. game on Holmes…that’s just what we did! She would turn her back and off we twirled. Sometimes getting two full rotations in before being ousted from the bar.

We always got our loot first…We drank our cold cherry phosphates like the true cowgirls we were. Slurping every last drop through our red and white striped paper straws. Then we turned our eyes to the gold. Barrels full of Candy dots, Mallo Cups, Sugar Daddys, Neccos, Cat tails, Licorice… Our fat little cheeks quivered in anticipation. We couldn’t touch the candy, only point, as her old frail hands slowly placed our sucrose into pristine brown paper bags. It was pure torture waiting for her to get the loot in the bag and hand it over. If we would have had bandanas and pistols, the whole job would have gone down a lot faster. But we were only 8 yrs old or so, so we had no choice. We were at her mercy.

So, we got our candy, we got our phosphates, we twirled and we were ousted. Thrown to the street tasting dust in our mouths. It was always worth the risk and we were in this together. We had each other’s back. We took the risk together and reveled in the glorious sugar high as we walked the rest of the way home from school. The candy was gone within a block. The sting of getting caught as the “twirler” faded as fast as the high noon heat.  But the friendship and memories have lasted forever.

I’ve often wondered why this was such an indelible memory for me. I always thought it was the candy, the phosphates, or the thrill of getting caught. But now, as I age and I reflect back on that time, I realize it was so much more. It was about the friendship, the bonds I’ve carried with me my entire life. The knowing that I am never alone along this trek through life. The things that have strengthened me and given me a foundation that has allowed me to endure my MS, my failures, my losses, and all that life has thrown at me, have been my enduring friendships, past and present. And as I’ve ridden my trusty horse down this wild trail, I have collected more precious friends to add to my posse, my most prized possessions.

No gunfights, no drama, just “sweet” memories of me and my brave partners in crime at the OK Corral. Happy Trails to you…until we meet again…