Sometimes I liked to go places with Uncle Ron and sometimes I didn’t have a choice. During our excursions, he did teach me a lot. Sometimes I learned what not to do. Keeping five girlfriends at the same time, who didn’t know about each other: Bad idea. But that’s another Bob Remembers.

Once a week he’d venture towards Domino Liquors for a case (or two) of Meister Brau. When I was around, he’d ask me to tag along. I would get to ride in the front seat of his New Yorker and would crack the window so as not to choke from the heavy smoke of non-filtered Lucky Strikes.

After a few stops, we’d reach our destination. Although I would have rather had a bag of those pink Wintergreen Lozenges, he always pointed next to the candy cigarettes where the ultimate adult-starter kit sit in several little bins. I liked the Sloe Gin, but he called that a “girly drink” and reached for a handful Whiskey Sour Booze Candy. We could have compromised with an assortment, but there was no arguing with that man. I haven’t seen the candy for years now. I guess the world is more politically-correct today. Uncle Ron? Still not so much