A Big Moon Pie in Your Eye

Dear Boo and Bubble,

That first year at Albejose, your great grandmother Mary started what became a tradition.  She suggested that the most efficient way to set things up was for great granddaddy Schaefer to take baby Gene to the Red & White grocery store where he could execute her miles-long list for our week’s provisions.  He could do the shopping and mind Gene while the rest of us unpacked, made the beds and opened windows to air out the house.

Dad obliged.  At the time it seemed the much easier task.  After all, how hard could it be to stroll through a grocery story checking off items while your toddler sat docilely in the grocery cart?  The Red & White would certainly be cooler, too, with its cinder block walls and industrial fans.  He put Gene back in the car and they drove off.

The Red & White was back on the main road coming into Ocean Drive.  Dad pulled into a parking space on the street and helped Gene out of the car.  A line of carts spanned the front of the store.  As dad approached them, Gene recognized what they were and there was absolutely no way he was going to sit in one.  Because he was two and because he had just ridden eight hours in a car somewhat restrained, and most likely just because he felt like it, he crumpled to the pavement in a total limp-body meltdown.   Dad reached down to grab Gene’s hand.

“Come on, Gene.  Get up now.”  I’m sure he looked around to see if anybody was witnessing the commotion.

His attempt to lift Gene off the ground with one arm proved futile as the toddler’s dead weight and rubber legs made it impossible.  When dad reached down and picked Gene up with both arms, it solved the problem of getting him off the ground.  But, dad’s efforts to stuff Gene into the cart seat were rendered hopeless when the two-year-old chose to utilize that second infamous baby strategy – the rigor mortis pose.

In an irrational moment to avoid a scene, dad decided to negotiate with his two-year old son.  If Gene would stay right by the cart, he could walk rather than ride.  That seemed to settle the matter.

The plan worked well at the start, until dad became so engrossed in the list and trying to find where a certain item might be in the store, he completely forgot about Gene.  They were on Aisle 9, the one that housed baking goods – flour, sugar, baking powder and soda, and supposedly saccharin for mother’s morning coffee. 

There was only one other person on the aisle who happened to be an unfortunately obese woman with bleached blonde hair and skin so overexposed to the sun it crinkled like crepe up and down her arms and legs.  Her décor indicated that she couldn’t care less as she proudly wore a hot pink halter top and skin-tight short shorts.  At the very moment dad searched for the saccharin, she bent over at the opposite shelf on the bottom reaching for some instant Jello. 

Who would be standing right behind her, in perfect moon position, but Gene.  Her posterior presented itself to him who, having been remarkably good up until then, could absolutely not resist the temptation.  He walked over to the enticing orb and slapped as hard as he could.  The noise resounded through the store.  Gene scampered around the corner into the next aisle and disappeared.  The woman stood straight up, face flushed with the blood of embarrassment and outrage.  The only person within proximity was dad.  She glared at him with utter disgust.

Dad, aghast, dropped his list to the floor and his hands up in surrender.  “No...no...lady.  I…I….it’s not me.  Gene, Gene, GENE!!!  Come back here.”

It was a good thing that your great granddaddy was already baldheaded.  That lady probably would have pulled every hair out of his head if he hadn’t been.  From that year on, the shopping tradition at the Red & White included me…. Dad for the shopping and me to watch Gene.