I was a small town girl living in a lonely world...
Okay, I wasn't necessarily lonely, but I did spend my formative years growing up in a small coal-mining town - one where "everybody knew everybody" pretty much.
When I was a sophomore in high school, our marching band was invited to a festival, featuring a large parade and field competition, in another state. This was a relatively big deal for our little town.
Anyone who's been involved in HS marching band knows the constant need for fundraising activities. This festival brought us band kids to new heights in such efforts. Finally, at a certain point, the townspeople responded with, essentially,
"We don't need any more candles/ place settings/ chocolates/ mixed nuts/ child labor... Can't we just make a freaking donation??"
Why, yes. Yes you can. Now, this was long before the digital age. There was no web, so no website to go to and donate through Paypal or such. Everything was done face-to-face via check or cash.
One fateful day in late winter/ early spring was the designated HS Band Festival day or something like that. We band kids would infiltrate the neighborhoods and collect donations from anyone wanting to contribute.
I was the "A". Other side had a "S" for the spelling of our mascot.
And yes, we wore blue hard hats.
Our instructions for donation collecting included that we stay in pairs when going door-to-door. Well, my similarly hard-hat clad teammate and I soon had the epiphany that our work would go MUCH faster if we split up. So we did exactly that, she hitting one side of the street, while I took the other. We'd meet at the end before returning to the band room.
This was all going smoothly as I neared the end of my route. I had two houses left. *insert dramatic music here*
I was on the tasteful porch of a tasteful house in the square behind my house. A cheerful man answered the door, he was friendly, smiley. I could hear young children in a room off of the entryway watching Saturday morning cartoons. The man was still in his bathrobe.
"Oh yeah, yeah!" he greeted when I told him my reason for being on his porch (and wearing a hard hat), "My wife has the checkbook, hold on!".
A moment later, a similarly smiley, friendly woman arrived with checkbook and pen in hand. She began making out a check, asking about the band's preparation for the festival, etc. The kids happily watched their cartoons, the man stood a few feet behind the woman, opened the bathrobe and...
- shucked the corn
- peeled the chili
- polished the banister
- adjusted the antenna...
I said nothing but remember thinking, "oh for the luvah Pete..." something like, and fixing my eyes on the charitable woman's hand writing the check. The wholesome moment had taken a decidedly disappointing turn.
I said my thanks and exited the porch.
But hey, the festival was fun.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Linking up this week with Mama Kat for the prompt:
1. Tell us about a memorable neighbor from your childhood neighborhood.
10 comments:
That's hilarious! Was it worth the money?
John, you betcha! Close my eyes and think of England.
Oh lordie! What the ever-loving EF???You should have pointed an laughed and remarked about the tiny size of the appendage -but shock is a thing, especially at that tender young age!
Linda Sue, honestly, if it'd been just the perv, I'd've said something sarcastic. But I felt bad for the wife and kids in that moment.
OMG. I would have died in high school.As a smart ass adult I'd ask the wife do you know what your husband is doing? Well as a cheerleader in high school we didn't have many fundraisers. I'm think I'm glad I missed out on all that fun. :-)
Peggy, half of me wanted to say something, the other half just wanted the h off that porch. I'd sometimes see them out and about after that, looking like a nice family. But to me, he was forever "Mr. Bathrobe".
Oh wow! That story took a turn I wasn't expecting! I think I would have ran off the porch before the wife handed me a check!
Jeanette, certainly an unexpected turn.
NO! He did NOT shuck corn right there behind his wife while looking at a high school student. What a creep!!
Kat, you succinctly quoted my brain from the time of "the bathrobe incident"
Post a Comment