Rally Hats

So my old arch-nemesis, we meet again. This is where I am right now with my computer. It begrudgingly starts up and after a few preliminaries, it sits here expecting me to come up with something entertaining. Something different from yesterday or the day before. My lip quivers, my brow beads with tiny spheres of sweat as my eyes shoot back and forth across the desk looking for some idea, some source of inspiration. The DVD bay on the front of the box next to me purses it's folded tray (I suppose) while I hear the hard drive chitter as it does a little housekeeping on it's file system while waiting for me to begin. I imagine I hear it sniggering and tapping its fingernails on the desk in boredom while I hold back the panic.

It will not have the satisfaction today, I'll come through. Deep breath, shake my head back and forth to loosen the muscles and begin. It will come, don't worry, it will come.



When I was young and out of school for the summer, I found that I could walk many places around town and more or less spend the day as I wished. I spent quite a bit of time by myself and I could walk all the way downtown by myself and sometimes I'd end up and my father's TV repair shop in the afternoon and sometimes he would give me a ride home.

I could walk downtown and go to the various stores and look around in them. A couple of them had air-conditioning in the later days and that made for a nice break from the oppressive heat of the Kansas summer. I rarely had money so it was more of a scouting trip rather one where purchases were intended.

There were two formal "dime" stores downtown. S.S. Kresge and F.W. Woolworth. They sat next to each on the main street of the downtown area and I swear the only difference between them was the name on the front or the building over the canvas awning. As I remember, the aisles were arranged similarly, the lunch counters were on the right as you entered and the same foods were offered at both stores.

Both stores had bulk candy and nuts at one counter. At the nuts counter, there were glass dividers set into the counter to form the boundaries of the different varieties of nuts. There were paper bags, a metal scoop and a scale to weigh your purchase. There was usually a display of some type of nuts (my favorite was cashews) at the end of the counter, comprised of an open wooden barrel, or at least the top of the barrel, containing the nuts on display. Mounted over the open barrel was a heat lamp which warmed the nuts and caused them to caused them to give off a wonderful aroma which you would smell at the open doorway to the sidewalk.

Both stores had high ceilings paneled with embossed tin plates from 30 years before and hanging globe lights and ceiling fans throughout that mixed the air and disseminated the smells of roasting or at least heated nuts throughout the building. I'm sure the delicious smell was used to make people want to linger in the store and look over the merchandise.

The lunch counter had permanently mounted swiveling stools mounted on a raised step along the front of the counter. There were tall enclosed glass cases on the counter, displaying the various desserts available on terraced glass shelves. The effect was one of modern luxury to my eyes.

For some reason, smells were quite important to me. I suspect it was that way for most kids. It was one part of how we approached the world. You'd see something, touch it and feel it for stiffness and weight and before long you'd have to smell it. Cataloging the characteristics. I can remember odd or pungent smells made a big impression on me. Once in a while, now, I catch a whiff of something unusual and my mind immediately takes me back, however briefly, to the first, or the last, place I encountered that smell. I'm sure it's the same for most of us. There must be a name for that type of smell-based time-travel. It is a very pleasant phenomenon and happens way too infrequently for me. I would like to be able to conjure that association on demand.

I think I don't want to think anymore right now about those times. While they are good memories, it hurts a little to dwell on them for very long.

I'm moving on.

More later,


Comments

Popular Posts