A Wizard in the Family

Jot down the first thing that comes to your mind.

The scene must have been richly entertaining to an external observer: Pop, Doug and me, standing at the table, wolfing down the last of our pancakes as the clock ticked past 8:55 am. We drained our juice glasses with five minutes to spare and wiped our mouths with the back of our hands.

Like the three stooges, we briefly collided in the kitchen door that led to the garage. Pop had wisely gassed up the Snapper riding mower the night before and with a few yanks on the starter cord, the engine coughed to life. He made his escape around the side of the house in a plume of blue smoke. 

Doug and I checked the gas tanks on our two mini bikes: empty. Dang. We grabbed the ancient 2.5-gallon metal gas can that Pop kept in the garage to fuel the mowers. It was at least 25 years old and had a picture of a guy from the 1950s at a backyard barbecue. The can said “Wizard” on the side.

Doug and I slopped what was left of the gas into our tanks. Time was growing short and our fingers fumbled to put the lids back on. We yanked our engines to life, put our helmets on without bothering to buckle them and roared out of the garage just as the door opened. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mom in her bathrobe, waving. Don’t make eye contact.

“WAIT!!” I dimly heard. “I had some CHORES I wanted—“

Too late. With a roar, we blatted down the driveway and past the four neighborhood mailboxes to safety.  The chain gang had fled; the warden was stymied.

Poor Mom. Lost another one.

That night at dinner, Pop, Doug and I were in high spirits; Mom, less so, who dished out the lasagna with a decidedly irritated air. 

Doug and I had avoided a miserable day of weeding…gnats, dirt and scorching sun… and instead found some interesting new trails and animal dens. Pop had dodged an afternoon of trailing in agony behind Mom as she went from store to store at the Pompano Fashion Square. His happy place was riding the Snapper around our three-acre back yard.

Mom frowned as she handed me the basket of garlic bread. 

“Didn’t you hear me yelling when you were on the minibike?” she asked. “I’m sure you must have heard me.” She paused, both of us holding the basket. She looked at me. “Didn’t you?”

I mumbled something, took a slice of bread and passed the basket to my left. Pop took a piece. 

“And you,” she said, looking across the table at Pop. “I wanted to go to Fashion Square. The back to school sales are starting soon. Did you have to spend the whole day on that stupid mower?” She scowled and shook the can of Parmesan cheese with extra vigor.

The rest of the dinnertime conversation was strained and no one said much. Then Pop remembered something. He put a finger in the air, wiped his mouth, and looked at us both.

“I went to fill up the Snapper when I was done,” he said. “But the can was empty. Did you guys use the last of it?” 

Doug looked at me, then spoke. “Well,” he said. “I dunno. We got it from the Wizard can. I don’t know if we used it all up.” Wow. Even to me, it sounded pathetic.

“Wizard?” Pop said incredulously. “Wizard? What, do you think that gas can gets filled by itself? By magic? Do you think it’s free?”

Doug and I concentrated on our lasagna as Pop continued to grumble. He and Mom were suddenly back on the same page. Watch out.

“Wizard,” he said again, addressing Mom. “Wizard gas. Can you believe it?”

That Saturday…although we didn’t yet realize it…was the dawn of a new era in our household; the advent of the Wizard product line. 

Wizard gas kept our minibikes running. Wizard cassette tapes let us record songs off the stereo in the living room. Rolls of Wizard film kept our Kodak pocket cameras ready, and Wizard flashbulbs made sure our blurred pictures of the family dog were well lit.

When we got older, quarts of Wizard oil kept our cars running smoothly, and Wizard beer from the garage fridge was Doug and my go-to brand at pool parties and cookouts.

One Christmas, I made a Wizard product catalog as a gag gift. Pop was sitting in a chair by himself and after he opened it, his eyes darted back and forth as a grin spread across his face. Finally, he tipped his head back and howled at the many ways he had been snookered over the years.

Wizard refreshed their product line and it proved popular with a new generation. The Wizard credit card has funded concerts and road trips for my kids. Wizard dog treats and toys keep their canine friends happy and Wizard hard ciders and seltzers…from my Instacart account…have replaced Wizard beer in the garage fridge. Wizard SD cards and chargers are popular.

Today, I sat down at the family computer for the first time in a long time; my ongoing decluttering project includes sorting digital pictures that go back decades. I double clicked the iTunes icon, then started on the pictures. 

The first song was not something I remembered downloading; it had a heavy bass line, little instrumentation and barely decipherable lyrics. What?

I looked; something by Eminem. OK, not one of mine, must have been a mistake. I clicked the skip button. 

Next song, same thing, something by Darude. And the one after that. I took a closer look and scrolled; hundreds, maybe thousands of songs by artists with genres of electronic, hip-hop/rap, R&B, and dance. 

I was stunned. Wizard music downloads had evidently been the go-to brand for years. I thought about the parable of the wheat and the tares as I looked with dismay; screen after screen of the three kids’ music and here and there, a few of mine. No more simply clicking play. 

I didn’t want to simply delete them all; after all, I had paid for them and I did recognize a few artists that I sort of liked. Plus, the kids may want to sync a new player.

I leaned back in the chair, my fingers interlaced behind my head, wondering how I was going to fix this mess. Wizard was no longer just a freebie; it was bloody nuisance. I realized I was grinding my teeth just like Pop had done when he was really irritated.

I thought back to that long-ago Saturday of the minibikes and the Snapper and ruefully considered all the times Pop must gone for film, oil, a cassette, a beer, and found the cupboard empty. Stupid kids.

And as I drummed my fingers in frustration on the computer desk, I thought I heard something; faint, but instantly recognizable.

Somewhere, Pop was laughing.

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