i remember going to the bookkeepers with my grandpa as a young girl. everyone would ooh and aah over how adorable i was (because trust me, i really was). we would drive out in his car that seemed like the size of a cruise ship and then we would go back to his place. there i would get to keep any change i found lying on the floor of his office. all that change was amazing to me and i thought at the time he was the richest man alive. the change was from his business. quarters, dimes and nickels all from people buying chocolate, chips, gum and the all so great sugary sweet pop. back in those days, that money also came from the sales of cigarettes too (do you remember those old cigarette vending machines?). i still remember the way grandpa's office smelled because his business was passed on to my dad and it still carries that same familiar scent. the smell of cloth change bags, empty m & m cardboard boxes, paper invoices and dirty money.

the other day i was talking to my step mom and she informed me friday might be the final sale of the business. i told her that made me kind of sad. the business has been around my whole life and holds lots of memories. she said she couldn't seem to get a reaction out of my dad, whether it made him sad or not. i told her to leave that up to me.

my brother (who is five years older than me) worked with my dad as a child and i did the same. the summer before i turned thirteen i'd wake early and we'd hit the road together. i had really short hair at the time and hadn't yet developed (if only they could see me now) and the customers would say "your little boy is cute". um ... not a boy! that was the summer my parents split and i believe working with one another brought my dad and i closer together.

driving around in the work van, stopping at mcdonalds for lunch (this was pre vegetarian days and i was all about loving me some mcchicken sandwiches), we'd listen to WDET (back when they played music) and i would think "god, this music is weird! can't we find some janet jackson on the radio?". we would ride down to detroit for some of the stops (this was back when i lived in the burbs) and i got a feel for the city. i knew to lock the doors if my dad had to run in somewhere without me, i learned how to watch my back and i realized that just because people were a different shade of color then me or may look less fortunate they were still definitely a-ok. i remember those times sitting alone in the van eye balling the boxes of snickers and racks of hostess products and imagining how many i can shove into my mouth before he got back. i learned how to rip cans of coke products off their plastic rings and fly them into the machines at a really fast speed that summer. i became a pro. that was my job and i was good at it.

my friend and i would count cans in the summer. sometimes i would do this job with my brother too. anything that wasn't a coke product got side aside. we would later take bags and bags of pepsi cans up to the grocery store and the money was all ours. that job was bad. half the cans still held pop in them and sometimes cigarette butts from the factory workers that my dad maintained business with. old pop and cigarette butts = really stinky.

i know the business probably wasn't my dad's dream job but it was a living. it provided food for the family and kept a roof over our heads for many years. i get that. i'm doing the same thing for my family now. you do what you have to do. my dad was good at his job though, he's a people person. they all called him "the candy man" and would happily shout "hey steve" when they saw him come through the door (kind of like norm on cheers). he was well liked and i'm sure he will be very missed by everyone who got to know him over the years. and even though my son never got the opportunity to sit next to his side in the big van for a day of work like myself, he still had the chance to sneak stocks of chuckles from the garage.

you know how kids are always looking to their parents to tell them good job? well, i wanted to take the time to tell my dad - good job dad! i'm proud of you!