Lost

     It was late summer or early fall in 1981 when my grandparents, my mom, my sister, my brother and I went to the Fashion Square Mall in Saginaw for shopping.  I was half way through my 4th year of life.  We spilt off into group and I happily went with my grandpa.  Teaming up with my grandpa was always a smart idea when you were a little.  He would often sneak you treats or buy you toys. 

     I remember my grandpa and I walking into the CVS pharmacy.  At that age everything I looked at seemed amazing.  He was checking out.  Behind him was a display of the newest hot wheel cars in a thick plastic case, with neat vertical rows that displayed the shiny, and most colorful design of cars I had ever seen  I was somewhat of a tomboy growing up.  I enjoyed playing with cars and wrestling.  Trying on clothes and wearing jewelry were for girly girls and I was not for it.  I called out to my grandpa to show him all the wonderful cars I wanted.  He turned and agreed they were neat.  That was not the reaction I was hoping for.  I wanted him to buy them for me. 

     "Grandpa, I want this one, " I would point to a particular car, "....and this one....and that one...Ooooh, I would like this one too."  Suddenly it seemed strangely silent for a moment, "Grandpa, are you paying attention to me?"  I turned around.  To my horror my grandpa was gone.  I stood there and looked around.  A bad feeling arose in me.  "Grandpa?"  I called out again.  Nothing. 

     I froze for a moment not knowing what to do.  Could he have went further back into the store for something he needed?  Did he leave the store and go somewhere else?  What do I do?  I looked at all the people entering and leaving the store.  I suddenly realized how big the mall is.  I couldn't just stand there all day. 

     I finally managed to take a step.  I decided to quickly go up and down every aisle to see if I could locate my grandpa.  I ran down each aisle calling out his name.  Nothing.  I made my way to the entrance of the store.  I looked out to the middle area of the mall.  Hundreds of people walked past and none of them looked familiar.  Slowly I made my way out to the middle of the mall.



The layout of the Fashion Square Mall where I was lost at.
In the 1980's Macy's was Hudson's and the food court wasn't there.
I sat in front of one of the box stores debating which store to enter.
 

     I could see the fountain flowing in the middle.  It made a wonderful sound.  I walked towards it.  There was a ledge that surrounded it.  I stood up on it and walked along the ledge being careful to keep my balance.  I sat back down on the ledge and splashed the cool water for a moment.  I was hoping my grandpa or someone would find me.  No one did.  I looked around again and decided I would have to go through every store and see if I can find my grandpa or anyone else from my family. 

The texture of the seats
reminded me of this snack.

     I made my way towards one of the ends of the mall.  In the middle of the aisles sporadically spaced out where brown bumpy circular seats with trees growing out of the middle of them.  The texture reminded me of  the Star Cruncher snack you would buy at the store.  I climbed myself up on the seat, stood up and looked around.  I thought to myself if I do into this store he might come out of the other store and not see me.  If I go into that store he might be in the other store and still not see.  I didn't know which store to enter.  I was lost.  My stomach was all twisted up in knots.  All these people and I didn't know who to ask for help and none of them seemed to be my family.  It seemed as if time stood still.  In front of me was a big box store.  On the left and right side of the entrance of the box store were two other smaller stores.  Neither seemed appealing to go in to.  I tried to imagine which one my grandpa would be in, if he was in any of them at all. 

     "JILL!"  I heard someone yell.  I turn around in time to see my older sister grab my arm.  "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!   WE HAVE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU!"  she didn't see pleased.  Behind her was a policeman.  Suddenly I felt as if I had done something wrong. 

     The office talked with me.  I don't remember what he said but I remember feeling scared.  We had to follow him somewhere.  I tried to hid behind my sister so I wouldn't be close to him.  He would walk just a step ahead of my sister.  Occasionally he would walk just to the left of my sister.  I would scurry to the right of her.  He would casually walk to the right of her.  I would quickly move to the left of my sister. His steps seemed hard and quick.   I was starting to think I was better off being lost.

     We finally arrived to the destination to the middle of the mall's information center.  I thought I was going to be arrested and sent to jail.  There my mom, grandparents and brother were waiting for me.  Their looks of concerned quickly turned to anger as they thought I just waltzed off on my own.  My mom thanked the officer and she quickly ushered me off to the bathroom for a prompt spanking.  I probably wished at that moment that the policeman did arrest me and sent me off to jail. 

     I didn't understand why I was getting spanked.  I never moved from where I was at.  It was grandpa who moved away from me!  I was only trying to find them and here it felt as if I was in trouble. 

     It wasn't until years later and talking about this story with my mom that I learned at the time of my disappearance another story of a boy who was lost in the mall was making headlines in the news.  Adam Walsh.  A 6 year old boy who was kidnapped out of a mall in Florida and later on someone found his head in a pond.  At the time the kidnapper was unknown.  The media put fear into the minds of parents all across the country.   Now being a parent myself I could understand the fear my mother could have felt that day, especially since the story of Adam Walsh. 

     From what happened to Adam Walsh came about the "Code Adam" that most stores use today in case a child goes missing.  Their protocol goes as follows: 

1. If a visitor reports a child is missing, a detailed description of the child and what he or she is wearing is obtained. Additionally, all exterior access to the building is locked and monitored; anyone approaching a door is turned away.
2. The employee goes to the nearest in-house telephone and pages Code Adam, describing the child’s physical features and clothing. As designated employees monitor front entrances, other employees begin looking for the child.
3. If the child is not found within 10 minutes, law enforcement is called.
4. If the child is found and appears to have been lost and unharmed, the child is reunited with the searching family member.
5. If the child is found accompanied by someone other than a parent or legal guardian, reasonable efforts to delay their departure will be used without putting the child, staff, or visitors at risk. Law enforcement will be notified and given details about the person accompanying the child.
6. The Code Adam page will be canceled after the child is found or law enforcement arrives

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Code_Adam

 

 

     



Tennis Meditation

     We all have those special things in our lives that we all take pleasure in doing.  I remember the my grandmother (that would be my mom's mom) would have her morning coffee and cigarette she would also play a game of solitaire.  That was her time to sit and ponder about the day that lay ahead.  It was her moment of being tranquil with herself.  My brother would go outside from sun up to what it seemed as sun down and shoot hoops in the driveway with the jambox shouting out the sounds of Beastie Boys or Run DMC.  My sister preferred things a bit quieter by painting ceramics while watching the latest soap opera on TV.  When I was in junior high my serene moment came from playing tennis out in the back yard.

     I couldn't wait until the spring air melted most of the winter snow away.  If the weather was nice enough I would shovel off the back patio to clear away the snow and remove the wet, soggy leaves that nestled in near the back of the garage from the previous autumn.  Our garage was attached to our light yellow house in Saginaw.  Behind the garage laid a sun-faded red and white checked board style patio.   Two wooden black birds were nailed to the siding forever posed in flight.  To me they were targets waiting to be wacked over and over with a tennis ball as I learned to control where I send the ball after I hit it with the racquet.  If my brother didn't take over the jambox for his music then I would sneak it outside for my tunes of Bell Biv Devoe or Milli Vanilli  It didn't matter much to me because my brother and I did have similar taste in music.  If the music was pumped up with loud bass we were happy. 

     Feeling the warm sun upon my face I would slowly unzip the black jacket of my racquet and remove my metal framed Wilson racquet.  My right hand would grip firmly around the handle as I took a few practice swings and felt the wind swish around it.  I would reach down and pick up one of the tennis balls that I brought outside with me.  Standing near the corner of the patio I would bounce the ball off the ground and tap it with my racquet.  The ball would fly up and smack against the side of the garage with a thunking sound.  The ball would bounce back onto the red and white patio squares and I would swing my arm around to hit the ball back to the side.  I would work on my swings of back hand and forward hand.  I  pretended that I was Steffi Graf, effortlessly going after the ball and hitting it back to the other side.   I had to be careful of where I sent the ball because there was a window towards the side of the garage that I didn't want to hit.  Occasionally the ball would tap into the window and I would hold my breath waiting for it to break but it never did. 

     There was something about the rhythm of the ball plunking the racquet, thunking on the siding and plopping on the ground that gave me a calming effect.   PLUNK!  THUNK!  PLOP!  PLUNK!  THUNK!  PLOP!  PLUNK!  THUNK!  PLOP!   Over and over the sounds sent me into deep thought.  My body would carry out the actions while my mind would start to analyze my frustrations, plot out the "what if's" in my life, or plan a story outline of something I wanted to write about.  Even with the music blaring in the background my thoughts came across loud and clear.  At that moment there was clarity in my life.

     My  mom knew how much I enjoyed tennis and set me up for lessons through the township.  I would walk over by Zaul Library to the tennis courts to take my lessons.  I would convince one of my friends, Keisha, to join me over at the courts to play one on one.  One time there were older teenage boys playing and they asked us to join them for playing doubles.  It was her and I against them.  I can't remember who won or lost but I can still recall giving each other a high five when they would miss the ball and we would get the score.  I even signed up on the White Pine Middle School intramural tennis team after school and did quite well with it.  

     Soon my attentions were drawn away from tennis as I got older.  We ended up moving to a new house and I didn't have my patio to practice on anymore.  I have taken my children to the tennis courts we have in town and gave them a chance to play.  They tried it but they didn't have the passion for it like I did.  There are days where I long to hold the racquet and have a good game of volleying the ball back and forth over the net, running up and down the court after the ball and feeling the force of the ball up against the racquet as I swing to hit it.  Maybe it is the carefree moments of swinging the racquet and hitting the ball up against the house that I miss.  Maybe. 

    

When We Learn Things We Don't Want To Know

     It was the early part of 1997.  I was into my second trimester of having my first child.  I worked at Family Dollar in Allegan.  I was a key holder which meant I could open and close the store, do a little bit of book work, and basically act as manager in charge while the head manager is gone.  I loved working there.  The people I worked with were like family.  We all had a wonderful time working together. 

     One evening a few of us were restocking the shelves from a truck delivery that came the day before.  There was a lot to do.  I would fill up a cart full of items that it could be restocked and pull it to the front of the store so that the person running the cash register could put the items away.  I would unbox and put away the items located in the back half of the store.  If the cash register section got busy a bell would ring and I would dash up to the front and open the other register.  We were working fast because we wanted to get as much put out as we could. 

     Pete, a teenage boy who was working that night (and the only boy employed at the time), called me over to him.  He was stocking the shelves over by the ladies feminine products.  "I have a question."  He was busy putting boxes up on the shelf while he talked, "What is a du-shay?" 

     A confused look came across my face.  "A du-shay?"

     "Yea.  This.  I see women buy this all the time."  And he hands me the box.

     I look down at the box and snickered a bit in embarrassment.  "Pete, that is not a 'du-shay', that is a douche." 

     "What is it used for?"  He had a dead serious look to his face. 

     I had to pause for a moment and choose my words carefully.  He was, afterall, a minor and I didn't want to tell him things that were inapprropriate.  I put my hand on his shoulder as he was still croutched down towards the floor putting them in their proper spots.  "I will just tell you, Pete, that you will NEVER EVER need to use these."   I started to walk towards the back to resume my work.

     He followed me with a box still in his hand.  "Come on!  Tell me!  I want to know."

     I looked at him for a moment still debating on whether to tell him.  I figured if he is asking and putting those items away on a shelf he might as well know what they were used for.  I sighed a huge breath of disbelief of what I was about to tell him.  "Women will use this to help clean themselves up and make themselves feel fresher down there."  I glanced my eyes downwards to help tell him, nonverbally, of what area I was referring to. 

     He quickly dropped the box to the floor.  "EEEEWWW!  THAT IS SO GROSS!"  He yelled out while his face twisted into a disgusting look. 

     I shushed him to be quiet as customers were in the store.  I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction.  "Now pick that up and go finish putting them back on the shelf."  He bent over and picked up the package pinching it between his thumb and finger.  He did not want to touch it anymore.  "I told you that you would never need to use this but you HAD to know."  I jested with him.  He glanced at me with another disgusted look on his face before he turned around and went back to restocking the shelves. 

     Later on a rush of customers were ready to check out.  I came to the front of the store to help ease the long line.  Pete and I were on a raised platform back to back surrounded by the registers.  We could see the long line of people waiting to be checked out with their carts full of items.  Pete quietly whispers to me nonchalantly but with fear in his voice, "Oh my gosh!  Look at the person in my row."

     I finish ringing up my customer and I glance up to see how long the lines are but in reality I look to see who Pete was referring to.  Nothing, to me, stood out.  Then I glanced down at some of their carts.  There in one person's cart was 6 boxes of douche among some other smaller items.  I look up at the person who was holding onto the cart and this lady could be the poster person for the People of Walmart internet site.  I probably wouldn't of had a second thought about this person except of how Pete was quietly reacting about it.

     He would reach down to grab a bag and quietly say under his breath so I could hear it.  "I hope she goes to your lane.  I don't think I could ring her up."

     I chuckle, trying not to draw attention to our ackward conversation.  "Just pretend like it is a box of chocolates."  I think I heard him gag a little when I said that.

     This lady finally reached Pete's side of the cash register.  Pete was trying to sound normal as he usually is but I could tell he felt nervous and disgusted at the same time.  My line was empty so I turned to help Pete bag her items.  I remember placing three in each bag so the bag wouldn't rip by the corners of the box.  Pete finished out the transaction as politely as he could.  After she left the store Pete turned to me with his eyes bulging out.  "6 BOXES?  SHE NEEDS 6 BOXES?!?!?!  THERE IS 2 TO A BOX!!!!"  He shudders his body then he thinks deeply about her purchase and shudders again. 

     I pat his shoulder, "You did well ringing her up, Pete.  Sometimes ignorance can be bliss but now you know."  With that I stepped off of register platform and went towards the back of the store and resumed pulling boxes out of the back and filling up the shelves.                   

Deep Fried Mouse, Anyone?

     As a wedding present in 1998 my husband Brian and I received a deep fryer.  I never specifically asked for one on our registry so I was surprised we got one.  I was a new wife who was not very talented with cooking in the kitchen.  I welcomed any gadget that might help create something edible and different to eat at the dinner table.  I was excited to try it out. 

This is exactly what my deep fryer looked like.

     We never had a deep fryer growing up.  My mom would toss french fries or tater tots in the oven instead.  We never complained.  We ate them and enjoyed it.   It was what we knew.   I read the instructions of our deep fryer tried it with french fries.  I was impressed on how crispy and tasty they turned out to be. Even the color was that of a golden hue.  It was a lot better than fries coming out of the oven that is limp and squishy and of pale yellow in color.  I used it quite often instead of the stove and it didn't heat the whole house up which was nice in the summer time.  I had my special metal slotted spoon to help dish out the fries as I placed it in a paper towel lined bowl.  I felt that my cooking skills were really something special with my new deep fryer. 

     In 2004 we moved up to Osceola County from Allegan.  Of course my precious deep fryer came with us.  It has been used much in the 5+ years that I had had it and it started to show.  Part of the flimsy lid melted one time as I set it too close to the hot deep fryer.  The lid still did it's job for the most part when it wasn't in use.  Or so I thought.

     One summer evening Brian and I were fixing hot dogs and tater tots for dinner.  I fired up the deep fryer.  It wasn't long after that a foul smell perfumed the area.  We couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from.  We began to think we picked up a bad batch of hot dogs from the store as we were boiling them.  We would walk over to the store and smell over the boiling pot but the smell wasn't coming from there.  We walked in circles around our kitchen with our noses up in the air trying to locate them foul order but we just couldn't do it.  It seemed like it was from all over.  We tried to grin and bare it the best we could. 

     I put in a handful of tater tots.  In a few minutes I pulled them out and dumped the golden tots into the glass serving bowl.  I tossed another handful of frozen tots into the hot oil.  The hot oil crackled and snapped as it cooked the tater tots.  I grabbed for my silver slotted spoon and fished out a few tots.  I stuck my spoon in again and recovered some more tots that were hiding under the oil.  As I pulled out the spoon I looked down at the tots.  Lying across my metal spoon was a dead mouse.  The little bits of fur on it was soggy from the oil.  I gasped as I stared down at this deceased little mouse trying to think of how it met its demise.  He must of been hiding out in my cupboard and probably ran across the top of my deep fryer and slipped through the side of the lid and eventually drowned in the oil.  It didn't look like it happened that long ago as he wasn't too badly decayed. 

     I walked over to Brian and showed him my mouse discovery.  He wasn't as interested in seeing the deep fried mouse as I was.  Right away he started dry heaving.  Trying not to vomit Brian said nauseated,   "Get....rid....of....that....MOUSE!"

     Looking around the kitchen I had no where put the hot deep fried mouse.  I couldn't toss him into the garbage because the oil on him would melt the bag.  I didn't want to toss him in with the already cooked tater tots.  It just didn't seem right.  I wasn't sure how to dispose of him.   Brian couldn't handle the sight of the mouse on the spoon anymore and he quickly grabbed it out of my hand and tossed it back into the deep fryer.  He unplugged it and wrapped a towel around the deep fryer so he could pick it up without burning himself.  He yelled for the door to be opened.  In a mad dash he ran out of the house holding the deep fryer, complete with mouse, and ran it across our field and tossed the whole deep fryer as far as he could. 

     Window's were quickly opened in the house and dinner was cancelled.  Just looking at the frozen bag of tater tots left an ill feeling in our stomachs.  Even though the tots in the bag were good, mentally we couldn't eat it even if we did put them in the oven.  We tossed everything out.  I knew we would never use our deep fryer again.  The memory of the mouse was too horrible to try to reuse it.  I was crushed because I really liked my deep fryer.  It was hard for us to eat anything deep fried for a long time.  The word deep fried reminded us of that darn mouse. 

     I think maybe a year or two later my husband purchased me another deep fryer.  This one is far better than the old one.  The lid wasn't of flimsy plastic but of a hard lid where a person has to pop a button to open it up.  It was larger and bigger than the old one and it had temperature control along with a timer.  I was eager to put it to use.  It took us a while to deep fry tater tots again but we used it for french fries, egg rolls, corndogs and homemade chicken nuggets.  This one is surely mouse proof.