Ode to the Helms Bakery Man

Out of all the women that I could have married I married a woman who was born and raised in Norwalk California.

Now, that may not have any social significance to any of you but if you read on I’ll bet you that about 100,000 to a half a million of you it will. You see I was born in Ohio but I grew up in Garden Grove California, just about ten minutes from Norwalk if there was no traffic, which there always is.

As a youngster some of my fondest memories are sitting in front of the television set and watching Hobo Kelly, with her large green handled mirror without glass in it, and calling out names and as it turns out both my wife and I both sat and hoped that our names would be called out to be wished happy birthday. One time my name was called but it wasn’t my birthday and I ran around the house, crying, looking for my mo and asking why she called my name when it wasn’t my birthday. Remember, I was just eight years old. My wife just told me that her name was never called but she has a rather obscure name. DAMN HER PARENTS! Just kidding J

We also were just reminiscing on the Helms Bakery Man who drove around in his truck and delivered baked goods to each neighborhood and both of us looked forward to him pulling our those long trays from the back of that truck to reveal everything loafs of bread for mom to the ultimate in goodies for us that included the chocolate covered doughnuts to the wax cola bottles and the wax lips. There were also the little two cent packs of gum that had four pieces wrapped together and my mother would not let me get because I had braces and then my favorite of all that I could not often afford…the Abazaba Bar! For those who are not in the know, the Abazaba bar was an all white taffy bar about five inches long, two inches wide, and there was peanut butter mixed with sugar on the inside; Pure Kid Heaven.

My wife’s favorite’s was the doughnut covered in chocolate and the wax lips that had some sort of cherry flavored sugar juice on the inside. As time went on these wax lips started to come in different flavors, orange, grape and what was supposed to be licorice but they never got that one right. She also loved the Pixy-Styx, the Chico-sticks and we just laughed because we both ran around the house with candy necklaces around our necks; again, we were six and eight years old. The Pixy-Styx were a small paper tube of pure sugar that was just flavored with whatever color the paper was that housed the sugar, it was that simple and kids loved it. Those were a penny.

Just as I did, waiting for the Helms Bakery Truck, my wife also watched a local Southern California TV shows that, after procreation had taken effect and the stories had all been told, it isn't just her and I that remember show like two of our favorites. The first was called Hobo-Kelly, with her large green mirror without any glass in it. She used this mirror to call out children's names when it was their birthdays. I remember the day when she called out my name and I ran around the house, calling out for my mom "Mom Mom Mom" I yelled, "she said Lazlo", unfortunantly it wasn't my birthday.

The next was called Sheriff John. This show was a precursor to PBS’s Mister Rodgers but if they would have made Sheriff John commercial free and allowed children’s attention span not to be interrupted then he would have become Nation Wide.

But, that’s for another blog, for another time, and I WILL get to it.

That’s the Lazlo Report for Tuesday January, 9th 2007