Last call for smiles.
Until 5th grade, I got picked up most of the time and mom often had an agenda. Supermarket, bank, dry cleaners, department store…………wait a minute! Department store?! Yes, the change from back country to suburb was underway! We got a large store only around 5 miles from the house, and mom wasted no time getting a charge card. This was great news, as it meant she could charge stuff and daddy would not know. (I have no idea why/how, but she gained control of the checkbook around this time. For a greedy Scrooge, he had no interest in balancing the books. She certainly could not have arm-wrestled it from him; maybe it was payback for his snoring.) This meant small ‘under the radar’ toys for me! We’ll return to the store later, when I discovered rock and roll.
As a ‘believe it or not’ footnote, the store took time to announce rain had started and alert drivers to close car windows while they could. This, of course, caused a stampede of well-dressed women click-clacking outside. The front desk had small heaps of items that they would hold when the women returned. And snow? Well, when they announced it was snowing, you’d frequently hear un-feminine words dancing in the air. Alas, those courteous days are long gone……
No errands? Well, then it was music time. (Don’t forget I mentioned her college talents.) My mom loved to play records as she cooked, ironed, or cleaned. She was a big Sinatra fan, and had at least 10 albums, mostly Reprise. There was a big band album by Bobby Darin called ‘From Hello Dolly to Goodbye Charlie’. I think her favorite was Stan Kenton’s ‘Hi Fi’ album, which was a re-recording of songs she heard the band play live in the 1940’s. When the Tijuana Brass hit the charts, she bought every album as they were released and played them weekly. It certainly was inevitable I would add these albums to my vast collection over time.
I could listen and do homework or return to my old friend, the TV, for the Sally Starr cartoon show or the inspired lunacy of Steve Allen. I also have to pause here to say how I adored Soupy Sales. Sometimes I think he was the only thing that kept a smile on my young face.
If dad was working late, we’d eat as music played.
If not……..then the music stopped and at 5:30: in walked anger, resentment and racial slurs when ‘life of the party’ dad arrived to darken the mood. It was a transparent fog that hung like lead. No hugs, no kisses, and above all, no smiles.
Next time: So what did he do the rest of the night?