February 14, 2007
Yesterday I was at Dillons and I suddenly realized that I was actually having fun for the first time in 10 years. My normal trip to the grocery store used to involve a lot of work, even though I had it down to a science.
It all started when Arna was in third grade. Usually I drove up to Cordley Elementary and Arna came tumbling out of school, pushing and shoving to be first and then rushing to the car. This day he was late, so I got out of the car. As I walked and then ran down the sidewalk, I saw Arna chasing Emily N. across the playground. This wasn’t unusual except that Arna was carrying a clay pot, obviously a dangerous art project better left for parents to bring home after the art fair. I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before Arna would realize that he held a readymade weapon.
So I started yelling, “No! no!”
Then I saw Arna swing the pot towards Emily N.’s head.
“Duck!”
Either she didn’t hear me or she wasn’t quick enough and the pot hit her in the forehead, but she barely stopped. She broke away, ran out the back gate, and across the street to her house.
“I saw it all. I’m telling the teacher. Arna will be in trouble!”
The biggest tattletale in the class and Arna’s sworn enemy marched straight into the school and down the hall. Later I was haunted by her loud voice in Hastings, “Dad, we have to leave the store. Arna Hemenway is here!”
This was the beginning of many years of incidents that ultimately cramped my style at the grocery store. I developed an entire system for shopping.
After entering the store, I’d quickly glance down the wide aisles of fresh produce. Seeing no parents of Arna’s recent victims, no Cordley teachers or principals, I would quickly choose necessities and proceed with my cart. Then I’d make a right turn, hugging the sides and peek around to the next aisle. If it was all clear, I’d steer my cart straight down the aisle, not wasting precious moments. At each corner, I hid behind displays and checked for people. Then I cruised down the aisle, quickly picking up what we needed.
I proceeded through Dillons constantly on the alert for the soccer parents who Arna told to give medication to their son even on Saturday because he was driving everybody crazy, the teacher Arna asked why she was worried about wearing size 12 instead of 6, the basketball coach Arna reported for not playing all the kids on the team, and the school nurse who vowed never to take a splinter out of Arna’s hand again.
Meanwhile my son Zack also contributed his part to the surveillance routine at Dillons. I remember one day a totally distraught and indignant teacher called to tell me that Zack had eaten some of her stash of snacks while she stepped out of the room. Possibly premeditated.
Not only was one son a junior thug with a forked tongue, but his older brother was a starved, snack-addicted thief. I decided that surveillance at Dillons would not be enough. I began shopping between 11 p.m. and midnight. I’d skulk down the empty aisles of the store, gathering snacks quickly.
I laid low for awhile. No incidents had occurred for awhile. I finally let down my guard. My two sons were rehabilitated, totally reformed. Then one day I was checking out at Dillons with a huge pile of groceries. I casually handed the cashier a check.
“Are you Arna Hemenway’s mom?”
I couldn’t deny it. She already had the check. I didn’t answer.
“I know Arna. He thinks he’s funny.”
I hurried out of Dillons, only imagining what I didn’t want to know. From then on, I avoided any cashier under 40.
Things have changed again since Arna left for college. I don’t have to keep a low profile. I hold my head high at Dillons. I smile at other adults, dawdle in every aisle, and even strike up conversations with the cashiers. Dillons, in broad daylight, has never been better.
Comments
clare (anonymous) says...
That's hilarious! I can see you skulking in the grocery aisles. So you're that lady....
February 15, 2007 at 12:15 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
Anna (anonymous) says...
And I always thought Arna was a nice sweet kid....!
I think that creative kids are a lot more trouble to raise, based on what I have seen.
Is that why he started college early? To escape his tormenters?
February 15, 2007 at 12:18 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
sbcathro (anonymous) says...
Very funny, Leah!!
February 15, 2007 at 2:54 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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