Side by side on Bell Avenue in North Braddock, just to the west of 13th Street, stood two stores. The larger, Berta's, was a 1950s precursor to today's supermarkets. The smaller, Eliskowitz's, was that era's convenience store. Both served the (mostly Eastern European in origin) working class residents of that part of the borough. Each was responsible for a fond moment from my childhood.
Berta's first. As
one entered the store, there were shelves with bread, dry goods, and so
on to the right, produce bins to the left, and, straight ahead, a
refrigerated case that held meats, and a Rusnok delicacy called
kochinina.
Kochinina are pickled pigs feet. Not even I, a to-the-bone, both-sides-of-the-family Ruthenian, could or can handle these gooey goodies.
No groceries at the establishment next door. But Eliskowitz's carried many items targeted at kids. Penny candy (yes, penny - one piece for one cent), pretzel rods (also one cent), faux / candy cigarettes, and wax lips filled the display case just inside the door.
One afternoon, I put down big money at Eliskowitz's - a nickel, to be precise. I walked out with two pretzel rods, a Mary Jane, a Mint Julep, and wax lips. Pretzels ad candy were consumed almost immediately. Wax lips were clutched tightly in my right hand, as I proceeded back down Bell Avenue, past our house, and to that of my paternal grandmother.
As I approached the door, I put on the wax lips. They were in place, bright red and prominent, as I knocked. Grandma Petrovsky answered, but in a way I hadn't expected. She shrieked something in her native language. To which I responded by removing the wax lips and saying "It's ok, bub; they're just candy."
My bubba's closing observation? "Bozhe moye! I thought you hurted youorself."
