THE BALINESE ROOM

Background: Madeline Chambers and I lived on the same street, at different ends.  We knew of each other, but never knew each other until we got acquainted at our 40th class reunion in Galveston.  Little did we know that our parents, specifically our fathers traveled in the same realm at times.  Had we known....we might have been friends much earlier.  This is about our fathers....

Tying his bow tie in front of the mirror, Bill looks around at Faye.  “ Are you sure you don’t want to go…just for the first set?   We’ll start around eight, won’t be that late.”

“ I’ll pass, I have papers to grade, I hate driving to Galveston late to pick you up, even when it’s not a Saturday night. And it is always so crazy to find a place to park down there by the Balinese anyway.”

“There are no big names tonight….”

“Parking is still imposible and it is still a Saturday night!”

Jan walks in to the room. “Daddy where are you going?…to play your trombone?  Can I go?”

“Not tonight Sugar.  Mom has papers to grade…I won’t get home until late anyway.”  

“Can I hold your music for you?”, she says picking up the brief case. 

“Sure.” He pulls the trombone case from the closet and looks at Faye,

“ Are you sure….it's the Balinese?”  She smiles and goes into the other room.

Jan and Bill walk out of the house to the car.  He opens the car door and slips the trombone case behind the front seat in the floorboard.  Jan hands him the briefcase.

“ I really want to go.  I love to hear you play…..it makes me want to dance,”  she says as she suddenly twirls around in the cold damp air.  

“Me too Janny, you can go another time. Don’t bother Mom she has papers to grade.”

He gets in, closes the door, and starts the car.  Jan backs away from the car so he can see her, as she has always been told to do.  As he backs out, she stands smiling and waving.  He rolls down the window, “Next time, I promise! Go inside and get warm!”

He rolls the window back up. The humid winter wind rolling in off the bay always chills to the bone. As he drives down Pin Oak Drive, Walt Chambers is getting out of his car with flowers.  Hmm…they must have a special night planned, Bill thought to himself.   He waves and turns the corner heading out of the the neighborhood.

Madeline sits watching her mother get ready.  She loves it when her mom wears her prettiest dress.  Her fur coat is lying over the bedroom chair. Madeline softly caresses the fur, then rubs her cheek across the fur.  She loves special nights.  Moonlight Serenade is playing softly on the radio in the background.  She hears the door open….."Daddy!” she calls and runs to the living room.

Madeline bounces into the room as Walt walks into the house, 
“Pearl are you almost ready?  Remember early dinner reservations.” Smiling he lays the flowers on the table, and reaches out to give Madeline a hug, she grabs his hands and says,

“Daddy lets dance!”  she puts her feet on his.  He smiles and they sway to Glenn Millers sweet serenade.  “Are you and Mommy going to dance tonight?”

“Yes we are hun.  We’re going to dinner and dancing at the Balinese Room.  Pearl are you ready?” he calls.  Just then Pearl appears in the doorway, her fur coat dropped slightly off her shoulders.

“Wow are you ever ready!”

“She has on her special, beautiful dress and her fur, Daddy…just for you!”  He swings Madeline up into his arms and presses a kiss on her cheek, then pulls Pearl into his arms to give her a kiss too. 

“I sure have a couple of beautiful girls!  he says setting Madeline down.

He shows Pearl the flowers, “ For our special night …”  She grins as he carefully takes the wrist corsage out of the box and slips it over her hand. She leans toward him and pecks him on the cheek.  Little brother Paul peeks around the corner, 

“Where are you going?” He had already been playing a game with the sitter in the den.

“Mommy and I are  going out for dinner and dancing.”  Pearl picks up her clutch and says, 

“Ready, to go!  Madeline, you and Paul do what Emma asks you to do.  Have fun!”

Walt opens the door as he and Pearl walk out hand and hand.

Later at the Balinese......

The Orchestra begins to ramp it up with Boogie Woogie made famous by Glenn Miller and the Dorsey brothers.  The  trombones stand up to play and the place begins to hop.  Bill is in his element, he would love to have this gig full-time.  Carbide pays better…..this is just a weekend dream. The club is pretty full for a night with no headliners….just the orchestra.  The music is always top notch.

As Bill glances across the club, he sees Walt take Pearl by the hand to dance.  They gaze at each other as he walks her to the dance floor.   How he wishes Faye liked to dance……

About the Balinese Room.

Everyone who grew up on the Gulf Coast in the 40s and 50s knew or had heard stories about the Balinese Room. It was on a pier off the Galveston Seawall.  Exotic, mysterious, famous, and notorious for the things that went on there. Illegal activities like liquor and gambling when neither were legal were legendary.  In many ways it was like Vegas before Vegas became what it is today.  

Damn It is Expensive to be Stupid

You see, I really wanted to go.  Really badly, I wanted to go to the WTA&M Writer’s Academy. Waiting for my second book to be published, I had hoped that it might fund going, then, my back up had been an income tax refund, but we only got a fifteen dollar refund.  I started getting odd jobs like pet sitting a cat, and tutoring but those were only paying a few dollars each time.  My time was running out.  I had to sign up by the end of March to get the discount.  Then the creme de la creme happened.

I hate SuperStore  I never shopped there. Their stores were dirty and unorganized, the people who shopped there were weird and the clerks were, well never anywhere to be found.  Then they built a new prototype store a mile from my house.  I had to go by it every time I went to the gourmet grocery store.  Finally in a hurry I rushed into SuperStore.  I could almost hear those bells of amazement, ringing in my head, like when something amazing happens on a TV show.  This SuperStore was not dirty.  It was well organized and appealing. Dr Peppers were $2.50 for six, instead of $3.60. I was hooked…but only for Dr. Pepper.

Soon I really was hooked.  I was not only buying Dr. Pepper but toilet paper and laundry detergent and it only got worse.  I had become a 2 time a week SuperStore shopper.  To reward my addiction I got an email from SuperStore (at least I thought).   Since I was such a good customer they wondered if I was interested in being a secret shopper to evaluate their employee devotion.  Did they say, “Welcome to SuperStore when I walked in checked out? Did they smile and offer to help me when I couldn’t find something?  Of course! I could do that!!  And they would pay me handsomely for these services……$350 per survey.  I filled out the form, name, phone number and email address.  I could already see my money piling up to go to the seminar.  I started to go ahead and register for the Academy but wanted the money in the bank first, so I did not.

It took several months but on March 24th my packet arrived.  It had all the information of what I had to do, none of which looked too complicated and a check for $2750.   $350 of which was mine to keep.  The instructions said, “Do not deposit in your checking account, take it to your bank and get cash.”  Then I had 3 things to do. First, buy an item for less than $30 and evaluate the checker, "Did she say Welcome  to Super Store?" Was she wearing her name tag, was she polite etc.  Second, send a SuperStore to Super Store transfer to the name and address provided for $1300, plus the $50 transfer fee. Third, purchase a Money Gram for $1000 and send to the name and address provided, for $1000  plus the $50 transfer fee.

I followed the instructions carefully.  The transfer fee however was only a total of $26, so I had a surplus of $74 dollars.  When I got home I called the number given to me for questions to tell them that I had a surplus and asked what to do with the extra money.  I left a message, a man immediately called back. He was gruff and talked with a heavy middle eastern accent.  When I was explaining, he cut me off and said, “Be quiet and just listen!  I text you later and tell you how give money back. Email me copies of receipts.”  He specifically wanted the 8 digit number of the transaction for the SuperStore to SuperStore transfer and the Money Gram transfer. Then he kept texting me and asking me why wasn’t I sending it faster.   When got it, SLAM went the phone, and he was gone. I thought about this, it was very odd, he wasn’t very professional but that was pretty normal for inquiry calls today, whether it was AT&T or Capital One.  

At 11:00 PM the man called again.  This time he said, “You go now to Super Store, buy me iTunes card for $75 dollar.”  Surprised I told him no, I would not go out in the middle of the night to do this.  It would have to wait until morning.   At 7:00 am he called again waking me up, “You get me card?  Why not?”  I told him I would get it at 10:00 am, no sooner.  

Finally after many punches my stupidity button had finally been pushed.  This had to be a scam. I went to my laptop and put in SuperStore Scams.  Up popped the list, I scanned down and there before me was the scam.

I called the police and gave them all the information. They told me to answer no more of his calls or texts.  He kept texting and said, “Why not you send me iTune card? I wait to read from you next communication.”  The police told me the check was probably hot and would bounce back to my checking account.  He had  made away with $2300 of my money.  Then I went to the bank to get a copy of the check I had cashed.  To cover it,  I had to take out a personal loan for the $2300 that would soon be missing from my account.  

Then I drove to the police station downtown.  I presented all the receipts, my transaction for the cashing the check, a copy of the check I had gotten at the bank, and the envelope the check had come in, with a return address.

Not only did I have no money for the Academy, I owed my bank, $2300 for the personal loan plus the $379 of interest I would have to pay back.  Damn, It’s expensive to be stupid. It was not SuperStore’s fault, it was the people running the scam.  I have reverted back to my old feelings about Super Store however, maybe I will only buy Dr. Pepper there from now on.....and I will not be going to the Academy this year.  Damn it is expensive to be stupid!

The 4th

Each summer of my childhood we left LaMarque about the 29th of June to drive to Washington State.  As far as I was concerned Washington was the Promised Land.  We got up at 4 am to head for Raton, New Mexico which was our first night's stop.  There were no LaQuinta's or chain motels along the way.  We never stopped at a motel that had colored neon lights.  Dad said that was sign they were hiding something with the colored lights.  When we did find a place to stay,  my dad and the manager would go to the room for dad to inspect it, and it if it was clean and met the standards, we stayed there.  We usually didn't get there until 9 PM or so.  Dad said it was important to make the first day "count".

From there we headed to Cheyene, Wyoming.  We got into Cheyenne much earlier and were able to go to the museum, shop and just mainly relax.  We never ate at "hamburger joints" as my mother called them, but rather had sit-down meals at restaurants along the way.  My mom had the say on where we ate.  When we stopped and got a coke, it was a real treat.  Dad liked driving across Wyoming because there were usually "gas wars". You would pass a station with gas for 22 cents a gallon and a few miles down the road another station would have it for 19 cents a gallon.  On a 2500 mile trip it was nice to get a good deal once in a while.

The third night we stayed in Twin Falls, Idaho at a quaint little place called the Colonial Inn.  We had been there every summer since I was 3, so the owner remembered us.  It was a white building in a U-shape with colonial columns all around the front.  In the back there was a garden of several acres and a huge above ground swimming pool.  There were also many pet cats on the grounds. Each one had a name and was well loved.  I loved the Colonial Inn.  After being trapped in the car for three days I could get out and run play with the cats and of course swim.  There was a restaurant we could walk to next door.

We got up early the next day for the final day of the trip.  Dad had the trunk open as we each brought our bags to him.  He had the rule that everyone was in charge of their own stuff.  Finishing loading he closed the trunk and we all got in.  As we were waiting to turn onto the road, I could hear noises from the trunk, I listened closer and was sure I heard a meow.  "Dad? Are you sure you didn't lock one of the cats in the trunk?"
"Of course not!"
"Well I can hear one meowing!"  We were about a block from the Colonial Inn. He agreed to stop.
Before he got the trunk completely open, a cat shot out of the trunk like it had been fired out of a cannon.  He was running as hard as he could down the road, as we stood there we saw him cut through the trees by the motel.
"Do you think that had happened before?" I asked my dad.
"Probably...he knew right were to turn!"

 It was a long drive from Twin Falls, to Qunicy, Washington where my grandmother lived.  There were lots of wide open spaces and fortunately by father drove by landmarks and knew exactly where the next gas station would be  We would usually make it in to Quincy about midnight.  We would stop by my grandmother's house, if the back door was open we would slip in as quietly as possibly.  The hide-a-bed couch in the living room wold be made up for me.  Mom and Dad would slip into the extra bedroom.  Just was the last light was turned out.  My grandmother would say, "Goodnight".  I would squeal, the lights would come on as we all got up to hug and talk until I fell asleep.

The next day we would all get up and start cooking. The big family reunion was on the 4th of July.  Mom helped Grannie make the salads and pies, I got to help by cutting cookies and timing them in the oven.  Dad and I also climbed the cherry tree in the front yard to get the cherries for pies, making sure not to eat too many, as we picked.

My mother only had three brothers, but my grandmother was the 2nd of 11 kids.  From the oldest to the youngest in her family was 33 years.  After about her 4th sibling, they were the ages of her own children and younger.  My mother had aunts and uncles that were more like brothers and sisters. That meant I had Mom's three brothers and their wives as uncles and aunts, then I had ten more sets of great uncles and aunts. They all had kids that were cousins...more cousins than names I could even remember. There were usually about 80 people that were considered immediate family.

The picnic was at Mt. Ranier National Park.  It was the most beautiful place. The mountains surrounded us with beautiful views every way and cool mountain breezes. Basically to a kid from Texas, it was paradise.  One year the family decided to buy the meat from this brand new place that made chicken.  Uncle Perry, my grandmother's oldest brother asked me if I would like to go with him.  We climbed into his big white Cadillac and headed to Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken.  It was ready when we got there. Uncle Perry, me and the lady from the chicken place loaded up the whole backseat with buckets of chicken.  When we arrived back at the park, every man there descended on the car to get the chicken.  By then my twin cousins Peg and Tricia,  along with Joyce from Oklahoma, Sandra from Seattle and of course the boy cousins, were all there.  I was always so excited to see them.

We ate and played on the playground until everyone started calling all the kids.  Then we got in the cars and headed back to Quincy, Ellensburg, Naches Valley, Seattle and the little towns. The family reunion was always the highlight of my summer.  Since we lived in Texas this was the one chance each year I had to spend with relatives.  It was so magical to me.  For them, just another family get-together.  But for this one day every year I too had a big wonderful family.

High School Homecoming....or Rather The Mum

At 15,  unlike most of my peers I had not had a date.  My parents were firm that I could not date until I was 16.  I really didn't care.  Boys made me nervous.  The thought of having to create conversation for the span of a date was overwhelming to me.  It was Homecoming week, the Cheerleaders had spent the afternoon in the hot girl's gym, behind the band hall, decorating for the dance.

By some fluke, I had once again made twirler.  In high school the image had much more pressure.  One of the pressures was having a mum to wear on my uniform for Homecoming. Nancy Dunten had taught me to dance...but I had no date and that meant I had no mum.   I had subtly suggested to my parents that they  might buy me one, however my mother's attitude was "No date, no mum....deal with it."  I was trying to.  Not having a mum for Homecoming was a big deal, not because of the date or the dance, but because I did not want to be the only twirler in the band, marching on the field, with no mum.

I could hear the chatter in the stands, "Oh someone doesn't have a mum, who is that, can you see who it is?  That is Jan Greenlee!!  She doesn't have a date for Homecoming!  That doesn't surprise me one bit....my daughter says she is such a mouse."
"Well my son said...." and so it would go, with my parents sitting in the middle of it, taking it all in, slightly amused.

Shelly Fox, who was a Junior twirler, told me not to worry, she would find me a date.... groan.  I didn't want a date, I wanted a mum.  On the afternoon of Homecoming, at the end of 5th period, Shelly came through, she had gotten me a date with Chris, who was also very quiet and in band.

I was sick.  First of all I had been in Driver's Ed with Chris and he had almost killed us all.  The thought of going anywhere in a car with him scared  me to death.  He was from a huge family who had a van, and I knew my mother would not let me go on a date with anyone who had a van.

Finally, after band he came and talked to me. "I'll meet you at the band hall after the game, I can't by you a mum, I don't have any money."  And...he was gone.  No one understood.  Now I had a date, but no stupid mum.  I had agreed to the date, so I would not be the only twirler without a mum, at least I didn't have ride in the car anywhere with him.  Now I would have to brave the humiliation anyway.  

My dad picked me up that afternoon with his cheery, "How's your day?"
"Terrible, I got a date for Homecoming but he is not getting me a mum.... I will be the only twirler without a mum."
"Well if that is the worst disappointment you ever have you will be lucky."   No one understood.

The band members were assembling at the band hall to march to Etheridge stadium, when my dad dropped me off on the circle.  I reluctantly got out of the car.....everyone was standing around talking....mum ribbons, swirling in the wind, hanging to their knees.  I was mortified I had the stupid date but no mum.  I heard a girl call my name and turned to see Kay, Shelly's sister coming up to me.  "Here Jan..... it's your mum!"  I was stunned as she pinned it on my uniform.
"Chris told me he couldn't buy me one?"  Kay just smiled and looked at me. "Well you just never know!" I never knew where it came from.  I think the twirlers must have taken up a collection to get it for me. The band marched at halftime presenting the back ground for the crowning of the Homecoming Queen.  I marched proudly with the mum ribbons fluttering all around.

After the game I changed clothes and met Chris at the band hall, we walked to the girl's gym where the Homecoming Dance was in full swing. After a few minutes of standing by the wall in the, Chris looked at me like he was in severe pain and said, "Ya wanna dance?"
"Not really."
"Good, I'll get someone to take you home."
And he did, although with the fog of the passing years, I really don't remember who it was.

New Beginnings

No matter how old you get, there is an opportunity for a new beginning.  I love to write but had, for a time, abandoned my blog.  I have wanted to be a writer since I was in Mrs. Crain's 4th grade class.
Being an ADD child that drove all my teachers crazy, compliments were few and far between. Since my mother was a teacher in the building, many times she knew what I had done wrong before I did.
I never seemed to be out from under a cloud until I had Mrs. Crain in 4th grade.

We were learning to write thank you notes. She came into our class, looked over the room and told us to "write".  Everyone was confused.  There were no instructions. She told us to  write about whatever came into our heads.  I started writing about the mountains. I had spent the summer in Washington State where the mountains amazed me by their magnificence and size.  Whenever we drove high into them, they were so pretty it took my breath away.  I wrote until she told us to stop.  Some people had still not written a word.

I remember across the top of my paper Mrs. Crain wrote, "Beautiful description Jan".  I was elated.  I could not believe I had done something to get such high praise.  From then on, when I finished my work, she told me to, "Just write." I began my journey.  My blog has been a continuation of that journey.

This week I had the opportunity to go to the West Texas A&M Writing Academy, started by Jodi Thomas, the author of 46 historic fiction Texas romances.  Most of the participants were published writers.  Our classes were led by successful published writers.  The group I was in had the privilege to be mentored by Rosa Latimer, author of the Historic Harvey House books.

I am so excited to have another beginning.  I hope you will continue on this journey with me.  The encouragement you have given me over the years through my blog, has given me the confidence to take this step.  My first book was WINDMILL TALES, published by the Texas Tech University Press.

I am currently working on two children books, one based on the blog post, An Old Man Named Henry and another based on the museum cat, Perkins, at the American Windmill Museum.  The big project I am currently researching is about LaMarque in the 50s and 60s.  The Last of the Tigers, class of 1970 is contributing to my research. The following pictures are some of the activities at the Writer's Academy.

Author of the Harvey House books, 

Texas New Mexico and Kansas, Rosa Latimer

West Texas A&M Writers Academy

Jodi Thomas, Author of 46 romances of          Rosa Latimer, Author
historic Texas.

Jodi Thomas, Author, Sharron, Rosa Latimer, Author, Jan, Donna and Kay

L-R Dallas,

 Bookstore owner in Canyon, Donna, Kay and Sharron

Christmas Cards

Did you get any Christmas Cards this year?  Did you send any out?  I send out thirty-five and got thirty-one.  There were years when I sent out seventy-five and still missed people.  I contemplated why my list had gotten so small and realized....so many people have died.  I am sixty-five so that is not unexpected.  

My fondest memories of Christmas as a child had nothing to do with gifts or places we went, but rather with Christmas cards.  My mother had three brothers, but her mother was one of eleven kids. Since Grannie was the oldest, all but 3 of her siblings were younger than her.  Some she even helped raise.  All of my great aunts and uncles were more like the were my mother's siblings.  And... they all lived in Washington State.  We only saw them once a year and for Christmas we were on our own.

In that stack of Christmas cards were my Christmas family visits.  My mother would read them and the put them in a basket.  The first thing I did when I got home from school was to grab the basket and start reading through all the cards.  They had news of cousins, school pictures, family pictures and stories of the adventures of the past year. Each one I read, I imagined their snowy houses and thought for sure they must go places in a sleigh on occasion.

We didn't talk on the phone much because it was long distance and much more expensive than today.  The only long distance calls we could afford were those to my grandparents.  To make the call we dialed the operator, then she would ask what area code we wanted to call.  She would click click click and then say "I have Area Code 509, what is the number?"  The number would be a name and number like WESTMORE 5-9797.  There  would be more clicking and finally an answer.  Then Mom would say, "Do we have a good connection?  Can you hear me?" The conversation would start.  Mom would always complain that when she called Grannie and Papa, they wanted to talk forever but when they called us, they kept it short. And that was why the cards were so special.

I dreamed every time a read a card, of living in Washington with the mountains and snow.  It seems like a fantasy land where Christmas must be like a story book.  Once Grannie sent me picture looking out her front window.  The snowplows would pile the snow in the middle of her street, and in this particular picture, it was piled so high she could not see the house across the street. I couldn't even imagine snow, much less that much of it.  

As it got closer to Christmas the basket got fuller.  Mom would take the cards we had gotten first and nestle them in the branches of the tree like an ornament.  There were a few I would always keep at the top of the stack, so I could read them over again.  The notes made it seem like family was just down the street. I would almost forget until I walked out into the balmy 80 degree humid coastal air.  

When Christmas got to only a few days away our tree was full of beautiful cards.  I knew just by looking at them who had sent them.  The tree and decorations would come down after New Years but the cards would go back into the basket and stay out a bit longer.  It wasn't unusual to come in from school and find my mom reading through the cards again too.

As I grew older I began to realize I felt  much closer to all those cousins, aunts and uncles than they ever felt to me.  They saw each other every week or so.  Being so far away we were pretty much forgotten, until our summer visits. To me however, it was as if they visited our house each year at Christmas.  My memories of those people are still cherished in my heart, a special part of of my childhood Christmas memories.

THAT woman

Many of your have seen the Face Book post of the lady in Barnes and Noble going completely ballistic over a book called MISERY that they did not carry.

Comments ranged from "lunatic" to "crazy women."  

One comment said,  

"Can you believe that woman? She needs to be institutionalized."

Another said, 

"She had to be an actress just making a scene, no-one would ever really do anything like that"

Ugh but they do, they will and I did......

Since I no longer work I purposely go to the market when it is not busy. Sometimes though it backfires, they have fewer checkers so the lines are still about the same.  There is one checker, I will call her  “Martha” who drives me crazy.  She asked too many questions and is a busy body. 

On this particular day the market was not busy but there were only a few checkers. The lines were long….except for one, Martha’s.  I had other things to do, I thought, I can stand that woman just this one time.  She was  checking the lady’s groceries in front of me.  The bag girl was slow and had not finished bagging the lady’s groceries.  Martha finished her groceries and handed the lady her receipt. 

Then, before the bag girl can finish, Martha starts frantically checking my groceries.  I see them sliding into the pile of the first lady’s groceries.   Martha was blabbing as usual, asking,  what I was I going to use this for and would my husband really eat that?  I was keeping my eyes on where my groceries were since they were running together. 

The bag girl got the other lady's groceries bagged in paper bags and slipped them into a half full basket. She then pulled out my reusable bags and started putting my groceries into them.  Now I could tell them apart and I was concentrating on getting out my debit card, sliding it and putting in my preferred customer number.

Another checker walked up with her cash drawer and cash bag and said, “ I am ready when you are.”  Martha immediately said, “Sure!” and $150 into checking me out suddenly totaled my groceries out.  Surprised I said, “Wait half my basket had not been checked out!” 

Martha said,

“Oh that’s okay, you already slid you card so I will let her ring up the other half and your will just have two receipts. 

“What? Why couldn’t you have just finished checking me out?”

“My shift is over and I have to pick up my kids, this is easier.

“That’s not easier for me.”

“Here’s your receipt for what I rang.”  I put the receipt my closest sacked bag of groceries.  I put my debit card away, opened my Dr. Pepper, took a sip and when I looked around my $150 worth of groceries in my reusable bags, had been loaded into the first lady’s half empty basket and were being rolled out the front door with the lady in front of me.   The girl replacing Martha was now checking the remainder of my groceries. Frantic, I told her to stop. A strolling manager had realized there was confusion as he walked by and stopped.

“What is wrong here?”  Half of my groceries were now being rolled out to the parking lot.

“Martha just left in the middle of checking me out and the bag girl put half my groceries in the ladies basket in front of me.  I can tell mine because they are in recyclable bags.”  I looked again at the checker and asked her to please stop. She didn’t.

The line was once again long and people behind me were talking and giving me these disgusted looks.

“That’s no problem,” the manger said, “Who was the bag girl I will just go and get them.”  As he turned the bag girl came walking in.

“I screamed that is the girl and my groceries are gone!”

The checker had just finished with the rest of my groceries,  “$183.45 she smiles and says please slide your card.”

I was so upset by now I was shaking, “Why did you let the girl put my first $150 of groceries in that other ladies cart?”

The checker said,

“I didn’t check her out, you are my first customer.  All your groceries are right here.”

“No they are not.  Don’t you remember Martha totaled the first part of my groceries out so you could check into the register.”

“Ugh I was just paying attention to what I was doing, Martha was closing her own drawer out.”

By now the store manager had decided I was trying to steal $150 worth of groceries.  I was so angry I was shaking.  He said, “I will personally carry your groceries out.”

“I don’t want you to!  I want you to get the first $150 of groceries I bought.  I can’t afford to just throw $150 down the drain.”

He took hold of the basket the remainder of my groceries were and started to the parking lot. “Well you have all your groceries, I am sorry for the confusion.  I will prove that to you when we check them at your vehicle.” I opened the hatch and he proceeded to check the item against the second receipt and the proclaimed that all of the items were there.   Once again I tried to explain that Martha had checked me out on two receipts.

“Well then if she did where is the first receipt?”

“I put it in the bags that were recyclable to mark which bags were mine.”

“So you are saying that the first lady who had the basket with the recyclable bags in it has your receipt?”

“Yes!....ugh no!! It wasn’t given to her, it was MY receipt that I put in MY recyclable bag of MY groceries that the bag girl put in the other lady’s basket.”  
"Her groceries were the ones in paper bags, only the recyclable bags in her basket were mine."

"I am sorry but this makes no sense.  I have seen every way there is to get groceries for nothing but this is a first.  You are going to have to leave the premises or I will have to call security." With that he turned and walked away.

I screamed after him, “YOU JUST GAVE $150 DOLLARS OF GROCERIES THAT I PAID FOR TO THAT OTHER LADY FOR FREE!!!  I WILL NEVER SHOP AT THIS STORE AGAIN.

Crying, shaking and still screaming in my car, I noticed the parking lot full of horrified customers looking at me. Then remembered this WAS the only grocery store in town.

Gainfully Employed

June 15, 1974….my first day of work in the real world.  I had only finished college the Friday before.  I had suggested to my mom that I would like to take a vacation for a couple of weeks before I went to work.

“Vacation?  You have got to be kidding!!  You have been on a vacation for twenty-two years!”   My idea had not flown with her.  My father on the other hand would have hopped in the car and said, Colorado, Washington, where to?

The the next Monday I walked into the old downtown JCPenney Store in Baytown, Texas, as their new Management Trainee.  I looked over the tired old balcony store.  It was similar to the one in Texas City where I had grown up.....just not as nice.  The floors were tan, the walls were tan, tan pretty much summed up the store’s color pallet .  I walked up the creaky stairs following the signs leading  to the office.

I was wearing a “can” dress, the newest thing.  It was a dress out of a soft jersey knit that could be stuffed into a can, an instant wardrobe change you could carry in your purse.  It had long sleeves, a jaunty black and white pattern, a defined waist and a short circular skirt. I wore black hose with my I.Magnum shoes, bought in Seattle at the Bon Marche.  Perhaps the dress was a little short for work but I would be buying for Women’s Fashions so I needed to show I knew what fashion was….even if it was JCPenney! 

Heading to the back, a man in coveralls smiled really big and said hello.  He waited like he thought I would shake hands with him…..but, I didn’t think I needed to extend such formalities to the janitor.    As I entered the tan shabby little office, all the walls were covered with shelves holding box after box of shoeboxes…..the store’s sales receipts and records from I assume the turn of the century.  Desks were lined up side by side  and all the ladies were working away until I appeared.  One of the ladies turned and asked, 

“May I help you?”  

       
"I am the new Management Trainee, I need to see Mr. Heinrich.” With that everyone looked dumbstruck.  The lady smoking dropped her cigarette in the dish and instantly the whole room  evacuated.  Then I heard the scrape of a little sliding window on a closed door beside me.  I turned,  the little window framed the face of an older lady.

“Are you Janis Faye Greenlee?”

      
“Yes, I am.”

       
“ I am Mrs. Washburn. Sit down at that desk in front of you, I have some papers for you to fill out.” She scraped the little window closed, unlocked the door and handed me a stack of papers to read and fill out.  “When you finish just stay right there and someone will be with you shortly, then she disappeared behind the door.

As I filled out the paperwork I began to feel a little sick.  I  graduated from college to work in a dumpy store like this?  It wasn’t anything like the large fashionable stores in Houston Dallas, the interviewer had sold me on.  I never dreamed I would be put in a little store like in my hometown.  Just as I felt my eyes welling up with tears, the door to the office opened once again.  I turned around and a very handsome 40ish man in a stylish, vested, dark suit with a burgundy tie stepped in.  He had thick dark hair, carefully groomed, and big blue eyes.

“So are you Janis Greenlee?” he asked.  I was still trying to figure out why he looked familiar.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Sorry  for the coveralls, a few minutes ago, I was working on the air conditioner, I am the store manager,  Jim Heinrich.” He extended his hand.

I felt my face burning red, no wonder he expected me to shake his hand…He was my boss!

“Oh, oh, I am so sorry about that, I didn’t expect you to be dressed like…. Ugh I thought you were the Janitor…..oh I didn’t know who you were.”  He started laughing and I began to relax. At that very moment the evacuees from the office started filing into the office.

“Ladies ,” Mr. Heinrich said, “This is our new Management Trainee.  Janis these are our bookkeepers.  You will be working closely with all of them on your books.  Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Jackson, Mrs. Cost and well I see you have already met Mrs. Washburn”. She had slipped out of the little room behind me.  I said hello to each of them, still feeling like a bit of a leper. 

“Janis go on with Mr. Heinrich…..you can finish filling out the rest of the paperwork tomorrow”, with that, Mrs. Washburn slipped back into the mystery room.

As the day progressed I noticed that every one I was introduced to had a sudden look of shock on their face, until we got to the stockroom manager, Robert, a large black man with a kind face and his helper, Leo.  The look on their faces was that of pure disappointment.

The day was a series of introductions and explanations of more things than I could remember in a lifetime. It ended with only the explanation of my retirement plan left to be explained and signed, which I would do tomorrow.

As I walked to my car at the end of the day, I realized I didn’t even know where I lived. I heard a honk and saw my dad wave in his Silver Buick as he drove by.  I pulled out of the parking lot and followed him to Woodcreek Village. My parents, in their haste to have me gainfully employed immediately had rented an apartment for me and rented furniture.  They had unloaded all my boxes of clothing, and other things and had it waiting for me. 

Woodcreek Village was a new apartment complex, not yet finished.  Mom had picked out my carpet, a very fashionable long gold shag.  The furniture she had rented was a white Naugahyde couch and matching chair.   In the dining area was a little white table with vinyl upholstered chairs in a plastic floral print of yellow green and orange. A friend had given me a coffee table, it was square with crinkle crack white paint and a glass top.  Through the glass you see a geometric design, holding up the glass.  As a surprise, Mom had bought me a set for my coffee table, which consisted of a large ash try (I didn’t smoke) a candy dish and a matching umbrella stand to go by the front door, all in the color theme, of flowers in gold, yellow, orange and green.  The bedroom furniture was yellow bamboo, also very trendy.

Mom and Dad stood there, beaming at all they had done, hoping I would be equally excited to jump in and finish the unpacking.  All I could say was, “I am so tired, I think I am going to bed.”  I thanked them, gave them a hug and watched them walk down the stairs.  “I will call when I get a little more settled.”  I didn't have to be at work until 1PM the next day….I could sleep now and get things in order in the morning.

I slept for about 5 hours then got up.  I started to unpack and put things where I wanted them.   The apartment was a one bedroom.  The hallway off the living and dining room was like a dressing room, with a sink and dressing table built in.  To the right were two doors, the bath and a huge walk-in closet.  To the left was the bedroom, over looking the stairway and the pool.

By daylight I had the place like I wanted it.  There was very little to do in the kitchen because I had very little.  I had shared the kitchen with roommates before and we just each brought what we had. It had a dishwasher which I learned the hard way, took a special type of soap.

By 11AM I was ready to get to the store so I stopped, got lunch,  then headed to the store. Upstairs behind Credit and Lay-a-way, was the break room, where everyone ate and also checked in and out.  There were clipboards with each person’s time sheet to sign in.  As I signed in people were going in and out each saying hi and calling me Janis.  As I sat down to wait, a couple of men were eating their sack lunches, neither acknowledged me until I sat down on the ratty sofa, which emitted a huge, loud and embarrassing squeak.  At that,  they turned around and introduced themselves.  David McCormick was also a Management Trainee, although he was about to become a Merchandiser.  He was tall, handsome and extremely aloof. He was married and had 3 girls.  David bought for children’s, piece goods, home furnishings and the catalogue department.  The other man,  dressed in a plaid double knit (2 for $100) suit was Stephen Ammons.  A “Barney Fife” type, he was married with no children.  Stephen was the Senior Merchandise Manager who bought for the men’s department, work clothes, boys and shoes.  They asked me the usual questions and when silence set in I excused myself and headed around the corner to the office. 

With the aisle visually blocked by clothing, I bumped into a large black woman, her name tag said, “Dorothy White”.  I introduced myself.   She stood there just looking at me a second and said, 

“I thought you was supposed to be a black girl?”

 “I was?” I looked at her confused.

      
“Yeah, c’mon over here.”  At her register she produced a picture of a very attractive black girl about my age.   “ This is the picture Mr. Heinrich gave us of our new trainee.  Eitha you faded or you ain’t the same girl.”  A big grin came over her face and we both started laughing.. So that was it…..everyone thought I going to be  black.

As I got ready to take my dinner break around 4 PM, Mrs. Washburn put another stack of papers on my desk.

“Janis, the last thing I need you to sign is about your benefits and retirement.  As you can see your projected retirement is June 15, 2017….”

In the 1970s when applying for a job you filled it out by hand and stapled a professional picture of yourself to the application.  Evidently mine and another girl’s had come off and not knowing who was who, the secretary had guessed, getting the two of us mixed up.