09/09/2024
Glenn thought everyone would get a chuckle out of this!!! -Jessie
The Ornery Grocery Store Door 1,032 words
by Glenn Helgeland
It was to be a pleasant mid-summer drive north to Hayward from our home near Barron, probably to look for deer and whatever else we saw of birds, whitetail deer and pretty country in the "Up North" outdoors.
Even Dad said, "This will be fun. You boys will see some fun things..." he glanced at Mom, to be sure he hadn't overdone the sales job ... "and we might even see a deer." It was, after all, near where he hunted each deer season. Even he was hoping to see a deer or two while driving.
Then, too, there were the blacktopped country roads with small ridges, on which we tried to talk our father into rolling over just a bit too fast so it would make our stomachs do flips on each little ridge he topped, which young boys, such as my two brothers and I, thought was great fun.
After each ridge, the chorused request was, "Do that again, Dad". He usually did, at the next small ridge, if no car was approaching. There seldom was, and the oncoming car was easy to avoid when in sight because no one drove fast there. We were not moving swiftly, just swiftly enough to please three young boys.
Mom never objected. She either enjoyed it too or enjoyed more listening to our giggling and “oohs”.
Mom had packed potato salad and ice in a cooler, and hot BBQed beans in a pot wrapped in newspapers and long towels to hold the heat. I'm sure there were sandwiches, too. They were part of any picnic. Plus a jug of homemade lemonade and ice cubes, and a small, clean peanut butter jar and screw-on lid with a damp washcloth to clean three young faces after lunch. Bottles of pop were more fluid than were allowed; maybe our parents didn't want multiple potty stops.
Halfway to Hayward, Mom said, "Oh, shoot. I forgot to peel and pack some carrots. Their crunch will go well with the potato salad and beans", then she gave my brothers and me the evil eye that told us we should agree even if we didn't, or at least not object. She didn't say anything about candy bars because she knew what our response would be. She may have packed candy bars and knew it would be foolhardy to mention them until after lunch.
"We can stop at a grocery store in Hayward and get them. I might find some bananas and ororanges, too," Mom said. "They always tase good ... and you boys like them."
We arrived in Hayward 30 minutes later. Dad pulled into the parking lot of a large grocery store on the edge of town, parking where he could see the front door and drive up to it to pick up Mom if she had her hands full when she left the store.
"Hey, it's open. Good," he said. "There even are cars in the parking lot. Some other folks must have forgotten something, too," he said, looking out the window instead of at Mom. He loved to verbally jab people lightly whenever he could.
Mom opened her door, stepped out and said, "I'll be back out soon."
Jon, my middle brother and two years younger than me, spoke up. "I want to come with you."
"Allright," Mom replied. She opened the back door for him.
He walked beside her to the door, glancing back at Dad behind the wheel in our car and never noticing that the grocery store door automatically opened as they neared it. He probably thought Mom had opened the door, as she usually did.
She and Jon reappeared in 10 minutes. Mom had a small shopping bag in one hand. Jon walked just head of her. They followed a man and his wife out the door. Jon did not notice that the exit door automatically opened ahead of the couple.
He had never seen an automatic door because Mom never took us into the store at home with her. If Dad had driven, we would have been along but would have remained in the car with him.
Mom walked to the car, began to open her door, then noticed that Jon was not beside her. Dad, behind the steering wheel, had already begun to chuckle.
"What's so funny?", she asked. "I have only one bag. I bought oranges and a few bananas, as I said I would."
Dad pointed through the windshield at the store's front door.
"Watch this," he said, chuckling more.
Jon had both hands on the outer door, trying to push it shut. He was trying to close the door after Mom exited but before the door was programmed to begin its automatic closure.
Jon braced his feet and pushed harder.
The door did not move.
Dad began laughing softly out loud. Mom, smiling, stood by her open car door, one hand on the open window and one on the door frame. She was quietly chuckling.
Jon gave up his struggle, dropped his hands, turned and took two steps toward our car.
The door quietly began closing slowly and automatically, as it was programmed to do because Jon was no longer standing on the door’s matt.
Jon heard the slight sound, stopped, turned around and watched the door silently and completely close.
He turned back to our car, casting a disgusted look back over his shoulder at the now unmoving and closed grocery store door. When he opened the car’s back door, he got in and silently sat down. He had nothing to say. However, the disgusted look remained on his face, possibly a bit more intensely than it had been. He stared out a side window at exiting cars, ignoring the door.
Dad laughed openly now.
He looked in the rear-view mirror at Jon. "Congratulations,” he said. “That was the dirtiest look I've ever seen anyone give anything."
Jon didn't reply. He was still upset.
On the ride home, Dad, between bursts of laughter, explained to Jon how automatic doors worked.
Jon didn't think it was funny then. He never really did.
But Dad laughed for years, reminiscing about the door that wouldn't close despite my brother’s best efforts.
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Glenn Helgeland
Target Communications Outdoor Books
10459 N. Wauwatosa Rd.
Mequon, WI 53097
C: 262-402-7668
[email protected]
