Mac-Coleman

26 February 2014 - 

An Every-Day Morning in Houston

This morning, my wife suggested gently that spending some time out of the house would blunt my desire to write a political screed and would put me in a better mood. 

OK.  So, I donned my best Hawaiian shirt, tucked it into a clean pair of cargo pants, and chose good black socks to go with my fifteen-dollar tennis shoes; just right for a couple of hours at WalMart. Friends often meet for conversation at the McDonald’s there, and I looked forward to their enlightening me about the issues of the day. And, I would pick up some things for the house.   My wife gave me a short list of groceries, kissed me quickly, and I was out the door.

The late winter drizzle and fog clouded the windshield, but not enough to keep the wipers on all the time.   What's more, everybody was driving too fast.  There ought to be a law.  It reminded me of summers in Belgium; low clouds and fog and mist and little direct sun. No wonder the bars there open at nine in the morning. 

The eight miles passed without incident, and I pulled into the WalMart parking lot.

None of my friends were sitting in McDonalds.  I thanked the greeter for the proffered shopping cart, pulled out my grocery list, and started on my chore.   I needed milk, cereal, and romaine lettuce.  That was the easy part.  With plenty of time left, I also figured that a couple bars of deluxe chocolate would probably improve my standing at home. After discussing the merits of various chocolates with two WalMart associates, I threw a dark chocolate bar and a black currant chocolate bar into the shopping cart and left the aisle. My wife would be impressed with the classier-than-milk dark chocolate.

In the cracker and cookie aisle, I passed another old guy in a Hawaiian shirt and tennis shoes. His shirttail was out, and he was wearing white socks. No class at all.  There ought to be a law.  I chose some cookies my wife likes—double stuffed Oreos—and some Ritz crackers for me.  Cookies are always a good bet,and adding a fourth or fifth box of my favorite crackers is a prudent thing to do in case of an emergency.

As I cruised the remaining food aisles, I realized that I was just about at the median age for shoppers early on a Monday morning. There also were a number of young mothers, each pushing a cart with one small child.  One of the little girls even smiled and reached out to me.  We talked and laughed for a minute.   There also were two women and a man in motorized carts navigating the aisles. Everything seemed normal in grocery-town U.S.A.

There was much more to see.  But, by then, the women’s clothing section was between me and the rest of the store; so, I decided to forego further shopping.  On the way to the check-out counter, I grabbed two bottles of cranberry juice and a 42oz. bag of M & Ms. They used to sell 56oz. bags for about the same price. Now, we get 30% less. Outrageous!  There ought to be a law.

Walking past McDonalds as I left, I saw that my friends’ and my table had been taken over by three mothers, with their babies in huge baby strollers.  They all seemed to be speaking at once.  I’ve seen this phenomenon many times: an estrogen mist descends on the table and excludes everything male.   My old-guy friends will understand when I tell them.   Then, we will pull out pictures of our grandkids and admire them. 

It cost $36.83 for the milk, cereal, and romaine lettuce.  And the cookies and crackers.  And the juice.  And the chocolate.  On the drive home, I realized that I’d bought enough stuff to pay a lot of money, but not enough stuff to eliminate the need to make another trip to the grocery store this week. Oops!

At home, the chocolate and cookies were well received. The fact that I was gone only two hours was, well… less well received.  I figured I could salvage the day by spending the afternoon upstairs: writing, reading, and looking for a legitimate day job.

Maybe this is the way politicians get started: spending the morning talking with and judging people, trying to make up for their ineptitude with largesse, and spending a lot of money in the process.