Nick Brancaleone

As a kid, my Uncle Sonny and Aunt Phyllis staged the family get-togethers. Nan, grandpa, cousin Michelle, brother Tony, our little sister “Whitter bug,” dad, a gay poodle named Buffy and Nan’s non-stop bouncy pup, Bo-Bo. Then, there was Fuzzy and Neat, Jerry and Delores. Lucille and Otto; A REAL 70’s show….

Voices rang-out in all directions, one louder than the next, in order to have their punch line heard. Uncle Sonny was the king of jokes, literally sending you home with your jaws hurting form laughter.

Appetizers set out like mini food stations, smells of Nan’s homemade pasta and meatballs wafting lazily through the house, a food grazer’s dream.

Us kids running around, playing in the old giant cardboard carpet cylinder, rolling up and down the driveway, warming-up for dinner and hoping to put on some swim trunks for an evening dip.

I couldn’t wait for uncle Sonny to utter these few words, “Phyllis I’m going to get Town Club.

In an instant I was standing at attention by the front door with the most charismatic smile I could manufacture. I’d ask, “Uncle Sonny, can I go with you?” and I knew that IF he  said yes it meant that I could pick out the flavors. Ba-boom Ba-boom, my heart was beating so hard I was light headed.

24 glass bottles to a wooden case, Lemon, Lime, Orange, Cherry, Strawberry, plenty of flavors, Mix-and-Match, the color palette bursting, as my hands couldn’t grab fast enough…

Take yourself back and enjoy a Michigan product; crack off the metal cap, close your eyes and sip memories from a glass bottle…

Nan’s pasta and meatball’s not included.

16 fl. oz for 99 cents.