CORNER STORE

At the bottom of our street at the intersection of F and West Fifth St. there was a small corner store that was not much bigger than an oversized closet. In the corner of the store stood a wood stave barrel filled with the most sour pickles imaginable. It was a self serve barrel so you gave the proprietor your nickle then fished out your pickle. Biting into the pickle made you look like Walter Pidgeon the actor. My mouth waters even now thinking about it. Putting your hand in the barrel would certainly violate any health standard today. But as I think about it the brine solution the pickles were floating in was so strong that no bacteria could possibly survive.