In prohibition days he was the go to guy for spirits. Growing up in pre-WWII we called him a druggist. He sold us penny candy and accepted our empty bottles for a bit of change. I never knew how he could decipher the handwriting of the local doctors' Rxes.
During WWII I worked after school at a local pharmacy. I was a combination soda jerk, gofer and dishwasher. Scooping hard ice cream developed my wrist muscle but did nothing for my tennis game. The bright spot was I had to eat my mistakes.
My boss, the "Doc", owned a 1938 Buick and with gas rationing he had to stretch things. I recall he patched a gas tank leak using soft Fels naphtha soap. August 15, 1945 was V J Day - the end of the war in Asia. Doc refused to close up so we watched the neighbors parading banging their pots and pans.
Later in life I patronized a pharmacist in Jacksonville, Fl. He ran a small shop and competed with such as Walgreens. To help stay alive he opened a Post Office window. He once told me that when his VISA card was stolen, he did NOT report it as the thief was spending less that his wife.
All hail the friendly pharmacist who will soon be on the front line administering Covid vaccine to the populace! tjs
