There were only a few choices of candy in the house when I was growing up, mainly because the old man would buy what he and mom liked and, it was rationed to us kids on a limited basis. For the most part, if we wanted something sweet, mom would take a slice of Wonder bread and spread butter over it followed by pure cane sugar sprinkled on top (something left over from the Depression years, I presume). But there was, on occasion, real candy in the house.

There was the Tango bar, a marshmallow, caramel chocolate covered concoction, Three Musketeers (which, at the time was sectioned so each of us kids got a piece) Bull’s Eyes (caramel creams), and spearmint leaves and an orange sugary item called circus peanuts. Caramel Creams, the leaves and peanuts are still available today and I still ration myself in eating them.

I never understood circus peanuts, although they looked like a peanut in the shell, they bore no taste resemblance and were more like a banana flavor. As far as the tango bar, on occasion when I returned from school wanting one, knowing they were in the pantry, I would subtly start singing “It takes two to Tango,” hoping mom would get the hint. She didn’t (or didn’t want to).

One time, dad brought home a box of chocolate covered thin peppermints. He offered us all one and I liked them. He mentioned that when he was a kid, you would go to the penny candy store and buy one and if the center was pink, you got another for free.

For some unexplainable reason, one afternoon I decided to see if one of the mints in the box dad brought home contained the treasured pink mint. I carefully bit a tiny portion off the rims of all the remaining mints (at least 20 of them), and found nothing. They were all white mint under the dark chocolate coating. That evening, after supper, in front of the television, dad brought out the box of mints to share with us. Upon opening the box, he saw the tiny mouse-tooth marks along the circumference of each mint.

“What the heck is this!” he exclaimed with some displeasure, and asked me if I had anything to do with the disfigurement of the mints. I had to confess that it was I and tried to explain the reason behind my action. “I was looking for the pink one.” I responded in defense. There was a look of perplexion on his face as he explained they didn’t do that anymore as far as he knew and even if I did get a pink center, there would be no free piece for me anyway. I don’t remember him bringing home any more thin mints after that incident.

Candy had been changing as I was growing up. The original Three Musketeers bar had three sections (thus its name), and each was a different flavor, chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. Later, although the bar maintained its triple section look, the interior changed to all chocolate. Even after that, the bar changed its look from a triple sectioned to a double section and later simply a single bar.

What used to be three flavors in three sections to share with your friends, eventually became a bar that was “big enough for a friend and you!” and then, ultimately, a bar just big enough for you. Period. During this transitional time, the price remained five cents but now, though smaller in size, it costs a bit more than a nickel.

Occasionally, I still purchase some thin mints, especially the Junior Mints in a box because they are “cool and quite refreshing.” But I doubt I shall ever find a pink center. If I do, considering the atmosphere of today, I might wind up calling the Health Department.