Leave Them Hangin'

My parents had a lot of weird friends while we were growing up and back then, their odd friends and representatives from various organizations they belonged to, would show up at our doorstep unannounced. My two brothers and I, one older, one younger, developed a complete introverted approach to all these visitors and avoided interacting with them at all costs. If the doorbell rang, we ran and hid. It didn't help that our house was usually in a shambles and that my older brother's wardrobe usually consisted of tattered pajamas which were unfortunately ripped in a very delicate region. If the phone rang, we didn't pick it up. Someone who only knew how to speak Ukrainian might be on the line!

One day the three of us were home alone as my parents were out somewhere. This was usually a recipe for something bad to happen and this day would prove to be no exception. The doorbell rang and I made a crucial error at this point. I answered it. There stood, on on our front stairs and sidewalk a contingent of young people from the Ukrainian Boy Scouts, known as Plast.
They were decked out in full uniform and were there to ask for their annual donation for their troop.

I told them to hold on, as I did not know what to do next. I left them outside on our stoop in the chilly air.

I sought out the advice of my older and wiser brother, who was of no help at all. After all, I was the one that had foolishly answered the door and I would have to figure out how to deal with the situation. I pleaded with my brother to go to the front door and let these young men know that our parents weren't home and that they would have to come back. But, my brother refused. I had created this problem and he wasn't going to anything to help solve it. I can't remember if I asked my younger brother to do the same or not. If I did, there was no way he was going to talk to them.

I peeked through  our front window to look at our visitors as several minutes had passed by at this point. They were still there, eagerly awaiting my return. They didn't know it, but I had already made up my mind that I was not going back to talk to them. Call it fear, rudeness, or just plain childish behavior, but I had decided that I would let them stay out there until their patience was exhausted and they would simply leave.

I continued to peek through the front windows and observed them, hoping they would leave quickly. After what seemed an eternity, they just turned away, got in their car and drove off.

My parents eventually came back home and being the generally honest kid I was, I told them what had happened earlier that afternoon. They were appalled at our behavior and ashamed that we had been so rude to our visitors. What would Plast think of our family now?

Well, we never found out. Plast never came to our door again.

Best Christmas Tree Ever

The Best Christmas Tree ?

I'll never forget the year that my Dad got our best Christmas tree ever!

It was Christmas Eve and  we had not gotten a tree that year. I think it was mostly because none of us cared that much and with only one car in the family and one driver at this point, it wasn't the easiest thing to do.
My Dad came home from work after supper time which was unusual as he always worked the night shift and usually came home well after midnight. I guess he got off early because it was Christmas Eve.  He was usually in a good mood and this night was no exception.
My dad did have a twisted sense of humor. When asked one day if got a promotion from his normal janitorial duties, he replied yes, as that day he was asked to clean 8 toilets instead of the usual 4!
I think my brothers and I complained about the lack of a tree to the point where he finally caved in and said okay, let's take a ride to Two Guys, the discount department store, who had a tree lot in their parking area.
Back then, Christmas tree lots were not as numerous as they seem to be today, as we drove about 25 minutes to get to the Two Guys store.

It was late by this time, and although my memory is foggy on the exact time, it had to be like 8:30 or so. We were the only buyers in the lot.There were still a lot of trees left and we started to look around for what would be our tree that year. The most expensive tree back then went for about $12.
Shockingly, my very frugal dad picked out a 10 foot tree marked at $12.00. How frugal was he? Well not to gross you out, but he made soap from partially used bars of soap from the boys locker room at our high school, where he worked for a time.

So my dad brings the tree to the  guy who was running the lot and says basically that we expect a deal on the tree as it's late on Christmas Eve and your prospects of selling even one more tree are bleak. The guy's first offer, whatever it was, was unrealistically high given the circumstances. My father, in  textbook negotiation fashion, offered the guy his first and final offer...one dollar!
The lot owner made the "fritz" face, and said how that was not a bona fide offer and said he would not part with the magnificent tree for such a paltry sum.
Then my Dad uttered the words which I can still recall as plainly today as when they were first spoken over forty plus  years ago:
"Look, it's late..you are closing in 15 minutes or so, so you can go home and be with your family. My sons and I will come back in half an hour and take the tree then, for free."

Faced with my Dad's most logical argument, the lot owner took the dollar
from my Dad's hand and gave us the tree. I cannot recall any bitterness from the lot owner.
But, I can recall the look on my Mom's face when we walked in with the best and biggest tree we ever had!

(Reposted from 12-18-11)

The Toy Train Affair

In second grade, I packed up my newly acquired windup toy train set, put it in one of those shopping bags with handles on it, and trudged thru the snow to proudly demonstrate it to my fellow classmates. My most admired show and tell item of that era was a fishing tackle box, that I packed with neat lures and stuff my dad had. But for this week's show and tell, the train set was the featured attraction.

I'm pretty sure it met it's demise when I over wound it one too many times. I cannot recall how I came to obtain said train set, as gifts of any kind were quite infrequent in my young life, as my parents were pretty poor at this point.
But, I digress. When school was over, I packed up the train set and started to walk home with Bobby, my best friend. That was my first mistake of the afternoon.  Let's just say that he got into trouble a lot and I was there to participate in a lot of it. This was one of those times.
We were no more than a couple of houses away from the school, when for whatever reason, Bobby started making snowballs and began to throw them at a house along our route home. I don't mean just one or two, but a lot of snowballs. I'm sure I joined in, hurling snowballs at this guy's house, including his picture window. 
Our usual snowball targets, especially in later years were the trucks and buses that passed by at a busy intersection near our houses. While we had a few close calls being chased by our victims there, today would be a different story.

All of a sudden this guy comes tearing out of the house, screaming and yelling at me and Bobby! We both took off, but I had the shopping bag full of  my train set to carry with me as we fled, terrified. Weighted down, I was not as fleet  as Bobby was that day and the guy caught me and brought me into his house.
Looking back, I realize that in today's world, no one would ever bring a 7 or 8 year old kid into their house, but these were different times. He harshly sat me down in a chair right next to the front door and he walked away for purposes I was unsure of at that point. I sat in that chair, and with the homeowner not watching me, contemplated bursting out of the door to freedom.  I considered my chances of being recaptured and before I could muster up the courage to flee, the homeowner returned to the front door area as simultaneously, a police officer pulled up to the house.

The guy had called the cops on me! I don't remember any of the two minute ride to my house. The officer rang our doorbell and my mom came out and I guess the officer gave my mom the details of what happened.

I'm sure I was sobbing by this point. The officer left and I told my mom the details of what had happened that winter afternoon, just down the street. Once she heard Bobby was involved, I think I was off the hook for the most part as like I said, he was in trouble constantly. She called Bobby's mom and told her what happened.I'm pretty sure I didn't get punished for my actions that day.
Unless, you take into consideration that I had to walk past that guy's house countless more times over the years, always a little fearful that he might come out once again, yelling and screaming at me.