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I was probably twenty-five, and had been married for several years before I understood just how poor we actually were. My wife and I were talking, and it just hit me. Suddenly I knew why we always went to the grocery store on Thursday evening. I knew why we always had something really good for supper on Thursday night: chicken fried steak or fried chicken, or hamburgers! The rest of the week it was a lot of beans and potatoes. Yeah. Thursday was payday. The earliest grocery shopping I can remember was at Buddy's Supermarket in Garland. It was all nice and new, like everything in Garland was back then. What I remember most, though, was that pale green Dr. Pepper machine in the back corner you know the ones I'm talking about. It had the lever you pushed down causing that little glass bottle to fall though a hole at the bottom. Price? 6¢. Yeah. 6¢. As soon as Momma had actually begun to place items in our basket, I would sidle up to Daddy. He'd ignore me for a few minutes and then ask, "What do you want?" Diplomat that I was, I'd reply, "Can I have a nickel and a penny?" See I knew that didn't sound like nearly as much money as 6¢. "SIX CENTS," he'd yell. "What for?" "Oh, nuthin," I'd lie. He would then laugh and give me my "nickel and a penny" and I'd hightail it back to that Dr. Pepper machine. I'd drop those coins, press that lever, and with a "clunk" out fell my 6 1/2 ounces of icy cold Dr. Pepper. I'd pop the cap off and there'd be just a hint of ice forming in the bottle. That first swig would burn! If I paced myself, I'd take my last sip just as Mamma reached the end of her shopping. Then I'd place my empty bottle in the wire rack that hung on the side of the machine. Doing so somehow added to the whole experience. This ritual was repeated every week. Life was really simple for kids then. We didn't have all of the choices that kids nowadays have to make. How many times have you seen a parent pleading with a 4-year-old to make up his mind what he wants to order in a restaurant? Hell, I didn't make that choice until I got old enough to pay the damned check! I did get to answer when the waitress would ask what I wanted to drink. I was pretty conservative with my drinks at mealtime. I'd most always ask for a Dr. Pepper or a Coke to wash down my hamburger. But other times, I'd go for it! Nugrape! Frostie Root Beer! Orange Crush! The entire Nehi family! Daddy's company picnics were the highlight of my year back then. Forget Christmas. Forget birthdays. I'm talking row after row of washtubs full of ice and any brand or flavor of soda imaginable. Heaven HAS to be like this! Momma made me come back to the table to drink each one, though, so that cut into my drinking time. If it hadn't been for that little bit of exercise, I might well have drank myself to death! Hey, it was JUST soda, but it was such an incredibly big deal to a lot of us back then. God, I feel sorry for kids today. Compared to us, they pretty much get whatever they want and don't realize what they are missing. They're being cheated. Today, there's still that Dublin Dr. Pepper. Every 3 months
or so, I drive down to Dublin, Texas and pick up a few cases
of real Dr Pepper in real returnable bottles. I try not to drink
them very often, but when I do, it gives me the feeling that
I've somehow found a way to beat the system. You know? Sticking
it to The Man. Yeah. Freedom comes in a 10-ounce bottle. Contact Michael Johnson at rockzilla-at-rockzilla.net |
No kid had a happier
childhood than mine. Despite the fact that we were poor, my parents
managed to keep their three kids from ever realizing that fact.
I don't know how they did it, but they did.
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