When I was five or six years old, Mom began to let me cross Burling Street on my own, while she made sure no cars were coming.
I wanted to go to Mr. Diener’s grocery store across the street. Sometimes I bought a large-scoop ice cream cone, or a small serving of three-flavor sherbet, at two cents. It came in a paper cup with a small wooden paddle, and it melted before you needed the paddle. While I waited in line for my cone, Mr. Diener gave a bag of groceries to a lady in front of me, and she asked, “Can I put it on tick?” He nodded yes and took a small black book from a drawer and wrote down some numbers.
What did “put it on tick” mean? I had no idea. Maybe she got her groceries free. Outside, I asked Mom, and she said that sometimes folks don’t have enough money to pay for their groceries when they buy them, so Mr. Diener writes down what they owe, and when they have money, they pay their bill. It made sense to me, and then I just forgot about it.
My family was fortunate. My Dad had a full-time job during the great depression, and I wasn’t aware of money problems that other families may have had. Instead of “put it on tick,” today we have “charge it” with our credit cards.