January Thunderstorm, Screaming Kids, and Gold Teeth

I don't mean to be a tease or brag, but since we have been back from Kansas - the temperature has been in the high 60's/low 70's. It's not right for it to be January and we are contemplating whether or not to turn on the air conditioner. We even had a thunderstorm blow through and now we are in a tornado watch. In January....sigh.

I have to tell you and most would agree that Wal-Mart is a stranger rich environment and this blog proves to be no different. Sherri is a checker at Wal-Mart, wears glasses, and appeared to be about 25. We started our conversation while she was checking my groceries. Wait. Let me stop right here and do a side bar. Do they still call it checking out your groceries or is it called scanning the groceries? Does anyone know? If so, let me know. Okay back to Sherri and our conversation. Our Wal-Mart has a mini-teeny arcade and a mother or grandma (I am not sure which) was pulling out a stroller with two kids strapped in who were screaming. Do parents with small kids ever think that they are going to get their kids out of an arcade without them screaming, kicking and punching? Ahh....in a word....NO. And then do they think that the rest of us aren't going to turn around and look at them. I/we smile at you because I/we don't want to call you a dolt or worse to your face. So I turn to Sherri and say, "That probably never ends well." And she tells me, "My mom brings my kids up here." Oops, one of those....yikes. I chuckle. I asked how old her kids were. She say, "5 and 4; a boy and a girl." And I said, "That must be a hand-full." She nods as she scans my Nilla Wafers . She asked if I had kids and I said "17 and 11 - just old enough to have a love/hate relationship." She looked at me as if she felt sorry for me. Oh really ?!?!?! And I just thought....oh, you just wait sister. I extended my hand to Sherri and told her that my name was Donna and I wished her a good evening as we shook hands. On the way to my car, I watched a real cool lighting storm toward the East.

I noticed him as I was walking out and after I loaded my groceries into my car, I looked to see if he was still there. He was. So I locked my car and went back. He was sitting by himself on a bench just inside the building in front of the soda machines. As I approached him, I noticed his hair was cut very short with an small almost perfect circle of gray on top, a cane leaned to the left of him and he had an orange soda. He didn't move and didn't make eye contact with me. So in a perky, slightly loud voice, I gave him my spiel. Told him my name was Donna and extended my hand. He hesitated slightly and then extended his and while we shook he told me that his name. Beasley. I repeated it. No. He said it again, and then he spelled it. E-A-S-L-E-Y. And as he pronounced each letter, I noticed he had the same number of gold teeth. Six. Four on the bottom and two on the top. I am not sure I have ever seen so many gold teeth in one mouth. As I stared at his mouth, I mentioned that it was a unique name and asked if it was a family name and proudly said, "Yes." I then asked him why he was sitting there and he told me that he was waiting for a ride. Easley was a man of little words and I had clearly invaded personal space as he shifted on the bench. And be kinda afraid that he might whack me with his cane - I wished him a great evening and went back to my car. As I drove away, I checked my rear view mirror and he was still sitting there.

Good Night Easley, where ever you are.