Uneasy Rider

Pop, Doug and I sat on the plastic bench next to the Kmart sandwich area, moodily eating our subs. We were bored to tears watching people pushing their carts past us to the exit door and the customer service lady returning stuff. It was Sunday afternoon and as the hours ticked away, all I could think of was that I was missing working on our fort or maybe playing Marco Polo.

Growing up, I had a love/hate relationship with Kmart. It had great toy, photography, and sporting goods sections, and as long I was there with Pop, it was fine. In and out in 30 minutes, time enough for me to check out my stuff while Pop went to the automotive or hardware section. But Mom was a different story.

Our church was less than a mile away from Kmart, and she was an extrovert with zero appreciation for time. We would be the very last ones to drift away from the coffee and donut hour after services; she’d have something to say to everybody. It would already be close to 1:00pm and as we got in the car, I’d gnash my teeth as I heard “Honey, I just want to make a quick stop at Kmart. I need some–.” Fill in the blank: Hairspray. Ajax. Toothpaste.

She’d get a cart…(why do you need that of all you’re getting is Ajax?)…but of course that was just the pretense for getting in the store. Pop, Doug and I would trail miserably behind her as she drifted up and down the aisles, and wander between departments, occasionally putting something in the cart. Trying to hurry her along did absolutely nothing so after an hour, we gave up, got our subs and just waited for her by the exit, listening to the Kmart muzak.

Back to school shopping was even worse because we had to stay with her and try on one stupid outfit after another and fight about what “the nicer boys” were wearing. Eventually, I wised up and adopted big brother Doug’s strategy of putting his cool clothes in a plastic box in the woods by the bus stop the night before. He’d leave the house in his dorky Nicer Boy clothes, slip into the woods and change, then reverse it when we got home. This vastly sped up back to school shopping: Yeah, sure, get me that dumb shirt with the paisley ascot like the guy from Scooby Doo. And those stupid George boots, and those polyester pants. My Levis and Keds will be stashed in the woods tonight, heh heh.

However, there was one time I didn’t mind spending hours in Kmart; it was a few nights before my 12th birthday. We went shopping to “look for things that I might like.” Doug took off while Mom, Pop and I wandered around in Toys; we seemed to spend a lot of time in the board game aisle, debating Risk vs Stratego. Yawn. Doug’s head popped around the corner, and motioned for me to follow. He steered me excitedly to Sporting Goods where they had a minibike on sale. “HERE’S what you want, buddy,” he said. It was stunning. A seat that accommodated two, a 3-HP Briggs & Stratton engine, a shock absorber in the front, knobby tires. I sat on it and cracked the throttle. I could just pictured cruising down the trails near our home in the boondocks.

I could hear Mom coming. “Oh, HERE you two are,” she said. “We’ve been looking all over–” she stopped as she saw what I was sitting on. Immediately came the flak.

“OHHHH no,” she said in a loud voice, frowning. “Those things are MUCH to dangerous! I was reading about… bwah bwah…” Doug and Pop started to weigh in and the volume went up. The sales guy looked over. I quietly walked out of the Sporting Goods department, crushed. What was I thinking, a minibike vs a game of Risk. Plus, it was way too expensive, probably $300-400 in today’s dollars, and Pop was notoriously thrifty. The three of them stayed behind; I could still hear their voices arguing several aisles away.

The ride home had an interesting dynamic. Hardly any conversation; Mom in her PO’d position, chin on hand, staring out the window. Pop driving with his Big Band stuff playing; Doug playing a with a little hand puzzle

I don’t know what was discussed that night in Kmart, or in the following days when I’d enter a room and all conversation would suddenly stop. But there was a tension in the air that was almost palpable. Dinner was eaten in silence with everybody staring at their plates. Once I was coming in from the garage and heard muffled voices. I stopped and put my ear to the door; it was Doug and Mom, Mom’s voice raised and annoyed, Doug’s cooler and mollifying. I gave up trying to figure it out; the thought of the minibike had long since vanished.

On my 12th birthday, I woke and stretched. Dang, last year before becoming a teenager. I swung my legs out of bed and stopped, shocked. There, at the base of my bed, was the fully assembled minibike with a big bow on it. I was stunned. I later learned that Doug had been my unflagging advocate and had applied relentless pressure, like braces, for a week until first Pop, then Mom, finally gave up. He had pulled it off.

Today would have been my Mom’s 100th BD and Doug wrote to say he was going to put flowers on their graves and a pebble on my dad’s headstone. He also said he’d say a prayer to them and include me.

So even though they’re no longer here on earth with us…but always listening…he’s STILL sticking up for me with them.

Shopping spree? K-Mart…in the 70s…just him and me 🙂