"Here is exactly 15 cents," my mother announced as she carefully counted out the coins. "Ten cents to buy a loaf of bread and five cents to buy a Popsicle."

When I was growing up in the small town of Ellwood City during the 1940s, grocery stores were not very plentiful. In the hot summers, my sister and I often had to walk one mile each way to get to a small grocery store, one with a limited number of items.

As my sister and I walked to the store, we could imagine in our minds how cool and delicious a banana Popsicle would taste. We would hold our breath as we lifted the lid on the freezer, hoping to see the banana ones, with no desire to buy the cherry, grape or orange treats.

Mrs. Nadio, a short, pudgy lady with a quiet personality, owned the store and always greeted us with a soft, "Hi, girls."

We made our purchases and as soon as we left the store, hurriedly unwrapped the Popsicle before the glaring sun melted it. We broke it in two, hoping the twin halves would separate equally. When it didn't, pity the one of us who got the part with no stick to hold onto. We took turns when that happened.

One day, our mother only had 10 cents to give us to buy the bread. It didn't take long for the disappointment to set in.

"Oh, no," my sister and I exclaimed at the same time, "no Popsicle money!"

By the time we arrived at the store, the sun had been scorching down on us. I guess it affected our rational thinking and temporarily warped our brain function. When Mrs. Nadio went to the back of the store for a minute, my sister and I were overcome with desire for a Popsicle.

We quietly lifted the lid on the freezer and took a banana Popsicle.

My sister put it in her pocket. My thinking was, she is two years older than I am -- I will let her get caught with the goods.

We paid for the bread and quickly left the store. "See you soon, Mrs. Nadio," we both called out.

"She never knew the difference," we said, laughing, as we savored our Popsicle on the way back home. Our delight was short-lived when we got home and realized our mother could see the guilt written all over our faces, possibly along with the smell of banana on our breath.

Our dad arrived home from work and begrudgingly provided us with the five cents, as we didn't have any money of our own. The next dreaded step was our two-fold punishment, the worst it could be! We had to trudge down the hill again, sweat dripping from our faces, and admit to Mrs. Nadio what we had done. Oh, the shame!

"Hi, girls, back again so soon?" she inquired.

"We are sorry we stole a Popsicle when we were here earlier and here is the 5 cents to pay for it, and we will never do that again," we both replied with quivering voices.

There was no laughing on the way home that day. We still shopped at Mrs. Nadio's store, but I don't think she ever left us alone again.

To this day, I still love banana Popsicles over any other flavor. But when I eat one, or even see one in a store, I remember that actions have consequences!

First Published: June 17, 2011, 8:00 a.m.