Margie's was both a town meeting place and a place to learn to be cool. What to drink, what to eat, how to dress, how to talk, what music to hear, what music not to hear. You were allowed to go there or you weren't by your parents. A lunch at Margie's was a treat.
I remember my grandmother Glading asking where Margie was and getting a long convoluted answer. Where she was, was not there. The waitresses were older and smoked cigarettes and cracked wise. The counter man was brusque with us kids but that shouldn't be surprising. We were fools and who gives a fuck about little kids.
Margie's was where we bought models for ourselves and for birthday gifts. Margie's was where we bought comics. Margie's was where we got candy and school supplies and it's the only place in the world where I ever shoplifted. Yes, it's true. In seventh grade for about two months I stole erasers and pencils from Margie's. Like I needed or wanted them.
We ate cheesesteaks and hamburgers and drank shakes and cokes and dreamed of being old. Had we had a brain and looked at the men at the counter we might have thought twice about that but we were young and stupid and this was the center of Wenonah. Which made it the center of the universe. Almost.