Some would call it revenge. Others would say it was perhaps karma. A few would say just desserts.
But my Paw Paw had a few choice words for it, and they can’t be repeated in ink.
“I’m about fed up,” he said, spitting a wad of dip out the window. “There is no way she went in for just bread.”
It was August, a steamy day, in the parking lot of the Sack-and-Save grocery store in Brookhaven. My Paw Paw and I remained in the station wagon that afternoon as Maw Maw entered the store to “grab a loaf of bread.”
The reader needs some background for this situation. My Paw Paw was disabled, paralyzed from the waist down. In order for him to get around anywhere, he had to use his wheelchair. I was an extremely hyper kid, so Maw Maw looked for any excuse to keep me from accompanying her on errands.
Paw Paw was always the driver in the family. I think it went back to the yesteryears of the 1950s perhaps. He and Maw Maw had one vehicle. And Paw Paw was the only one who drove that vehicle.
Errands to town…Paw Paw drove. Family vacations…Paw Paw drove. Sunday drives…Paw Paw drove.
You get the picture.
Now that Paw Paw was unable to drive anymore, he relied on Maw Maw to chauffeur him around. And I think she was ready for payback, for being unable to drive herself all those years.
“It takes too much time to unload your wheelchair,” she said. “I’m just gonna run in and pick up a loaf of bread.”
“You make sure it’s just a loaf of bread,” Paw Paw replied. “I’m about ready to get something to eat.”
Maw Maw was already half way across the parking lot when Paw Paw bellowed his final warning. She was a lady armed with coupons and a free spirit.
Forty-five minutes later, Paw Paw and I remained in the car.
“That man over there went in before your Maw Maw, and he is already back in his truck,” Paw Paw said. “What in the…”
“Maybe she got tied up in the check-out line,” I quickly said.
“I broke a German line in World War II quicker than this lady,” Paw Paw grumbled in disgust.
Almost an hour later, she emerged with a buggy full of stuff. The loaf of bread translated to about two weeks’ worth of meat, a mountain of canned goods, two gallons of milk and two packages of hog head cheese.
“What is all this junk,” Paw Paw asked, with a look of confusion.
“Hush, James,” Maw Maw replied. “They had a sale, and besides, I got you some hog head cheese.”
That settled him over for a few minutes. He began eating that slab of meat right there with a pack of crackers she also snuck in the buggy.
“You could have gotten some hot sauce to put on it,” he said. “I could have had me a meal on the way home.”
“Well, let me run in and get you some,” Maw Maw said, already grabbing her purse.
“Get in the car, Earlene,” Paw Paw shouted.
So, our crew was making it was back down the highway toward home in Monticello. Maw Maw was at the wheel. Paw Paw was enjoying his snack. And I was reading an Archie comic book.
All of a sudden, Maw Maw began to slow the vehicle down. My heart started racing. What now?
“Look, a garage sale,” she bellowed, pulling in on two wheels.
“Oh, Lord just take me now,” Paw Paw shouted with his head rolled back. “Let me see those streets of gold.”
Not today, Paw Paw. The only streets you’re seeing are the highways and byways. Maw Maw is on a mission, meant for speed. And it’s full-speed ahead.
