The Real Candy Lady Who Inspired My Book
When I think back to my childhood in Buffalo in the early 80s, one person always comes to mind: the candy lady. She wasn’t famous, she didn’t own a shop, and she didn’t have much—but to us kids, she was magic. I can still see her now. She had smooth chocolate-brown skin, warm brown eyes, and jet-black hair rolled tight into shiny curls. The moment she opened her door, the scent of coconut oil and shea butter floated out, mixing with the cool breeze of our neighborhood streets. She carried herself with a kind of quiet pride—gentle, yet firm. She wasn’t someone you ran wild around; you stood up straight, you said “yes ma’am” and “thank you.” Somehow, she taught us respect without ever raising her voice. But oh, the joy when she reached into her bag or tin and pulled out candy! 🍭 Sometimes it was a handful of Now and Laters, other times a few peppermints, or even a Blow Pop if you were lucky. We’d wait for that moment, shuffling our feet, trying to peek without being rude. It felt like C...