The Road Trips and Piggly Wiggly

We were living in an apartment in Wilmington, California. The walls were thin, and I could hear the neighbor’s snoring. Had the nicest little landlord, Mrs. Carey. I had a small tabletop grill, and pork chops were cheap. Simple pleasures, I would take the small grill down to the bottom floor and put the charcoal  in and light it off. Anita would bring down the pork chops and the Worcestershire sauce. I waited until the coals got golden and then arrange the pork chops evenly on the grill. The smell would waft over the fence to the next-door house where Mr. Carey lived. Soon, she would saunter over and visit. I would always invite her over for grilled pork chops which was her favorite. My ship, the aircraft carrier USS Hornet CVS-12 was almost out of Dry Dock, and I had to report aboard and get ready for Carrier Quals. The ship was heading for another 9-month Westpac cruise patrolling the North and South Viet Nam coast and launching bombing strikes. I was close to being discharged and I requested that I be transferred to the USS Yorktown which was in Dry Dock since I only had about 65 days 3 hours and 27 minutes left in my enlistment. They turned me down and Anita came down to the piers to see me off in my Crackerjack uniform with the cape and stars on the flap.  I gave her the keys to our 65 Chevelle Malibu and we kissed goodbye like we had done so many times before. On the first day out, we had pork chops for supper. Our first stop was Hawaii. I knew that I would leave the ship in Honolulu.

Well, I was out on the fantail of the ship smoking a Marlboro and a cool breeze blew by. I went below decks and got my foul weather jacket. It kept getting colder and colder and the second day out, the Captain got on the 1MC and announced that the reason it was getting colder was we were not in Hawaiian waters but approaching the Aleutian Islands in Alaska. He explained that we were following a Russian Submarine. Well soon we turned south and headed for warmer waters. An embarrassed Captain got on the 1MC and announced that the Russian Submarine had turned out to be  a good-sized whale.  We docked in Hawaii, and I went down to the Personnel Office to check on my discharge. They said that I would have to wait a day as they were behind. I was told that I would fly to Treasure Island for discharge. I explained that I lived in Long Beach/Wilmington. Tough titty said they.

So, I packed my seabag and went ashore. A Navy bus took us to downtown Honolulu. I went down to Hotel Street. To the sailors, Hotel Street was called Shit Street, but they did have some nice cafés and cheap beer. I intended to get back to the ship early in order to rest up for my flight the next day. But then one thing led to another which led to another, and I might have drank a little too much beer in a bar with a Johnny Cash Band. Well, it was a Hawaiian  band, but they played all the old Sun Record hits of Johnny Cash.  I got back to the ship after midnight and did not get too much sleep. Reville was about 0600 so I got up and did my SSS. I went down to the mess decks and had a plate of SOS and drank a few cups of coffee. Then I went to the Personnel Office, and they handed me my records and my orders in a large manila folder.  I struggled with my seabag and the large envelope up to the gangway, sat my load down, saluted the OOD and requested permission to go ashore. The Chief asked me where are you off to and I told him freedom. He saluted, grinned, and said permission granted.

I went down the gangplank , sat my seabag on the ground, and turned toward the ship and gave the ship and the Navy a righteous bird. Then I caught a cab and told the guy to take me to the airport. When I got to the airport, I went to the Military Help Desk and showed a nice lady my orders and what was called a GTV (Government Travel Voucher which was basically  a ticket. It read Honolulu Hawaii to San Francisco. I told the lady I was being discharged, and she asked where I lived. I told her in Long Beach, and she asked why the heck are you being discharged in Treasure Island when you could be discharged in Long Beach just a few miles from my apartment. I said that lately the Navy and I were not seeing eye to eye, and she said that if she were me, she would draw a line through San Francisco and write in Los Angeles. So, I did. I took the modified GTV to the ticket counter and was told I would have to wait for about three hours for the next flight to LA. I killed some time at a little airport restaurant and had some bacon and eggs and an endless cup of coffee.

I checked my seabag to LA and boarded the plane. At the top of the ladder, I looked back at Honolulu and its clear blue skies. It would be almost 18 years until I saw those skies again.

I landed in Las Angeles , well, the plane did, and I called Anita to tell her I would be home soon. I got the answering machine and left a message that I would call her from Long Beach to pick me up

I went to the Military Assistance Counter and bummed a ride to Long Beach in an old green Army Bus. They let me off on Ocean Boulevard. I managed to wrestle the seabag off the bus and went to a pay phone. This time Anita answered, and she agreed to come and get me.  Twenty minutes later she pulled to the curb and popped the trunk, and I started to climb in, and she said no Silly, put your seabag in. I followed her orders and rode up front in the Malibu. When we got home, I looked at my orders, and they said report to Treasure Island for Discharge. Well, I quickly lined through Treasure Island and wrote in Long Beach.

The next day, I went to the Long Beach Naval Station and checked in at the Personnel Office. The guy at the counter said hey according to this, you are supposed to be at Treasure Island, who wrote in this change. Heck if I know said I.  Oh well, he said as he stamped the orders. I asked when I would be discharged, and he said that it would be abut three weeks. Well, long story short, to kill the three weeks, I was assigned as shore patrol at night and during the afternoons, I was put in charge of funeral details. We would go to different cemeteries around Long Beach and Los Angles. I would have the firing squad do honors and I would give a folded flag to the family of the deceased sailor. Most were coming from Viet Nam. Sometimes a local veteran died and deserved military honors. I did not care for that assignment.

Well, the days drug on and finally, my enlistment was up. I was discharged and once again proclaimed a civilian. I took the Malibu to the base service station for a tune up and there was a line at the service counter. When I got to the Service Counter, I told the guy I wanted a tune up and an oil change. He asked what kind of vehicle I had. My mind went blank. If someone offered me a thousand dollars to tell the make and model of my 65 Chevelle Super Sport Malibu, I could not have done it. The guy looked at me and said what is the make and model of your vehicle. I said, I will be right back. I got to the parking lot and saw the beautiful Forrest green Malibu looking back at me. I wrote the license plate number on my hand and went back in the service station. I had to wait in line again and when I got to the counter, the guy looked at me and said did you find out what kind of car you own? I gave him the information and went to the soda pop machine and bought a 7-up. About an hour later, I picked up my car and drove off the base and went home. We packed the car with our suitcases, and I looked at Anita and said, “are you going to get the kids.” She gave me that look and said we don’t have kids’ buster. Well that changed.

 

We filled up with gas, bought some maps, and headed for North Carolina. We saw a lot of sights along the way, Paul Bunyan, the Worlds biggest ball of twine and a lot of  roadside attractions. Cheap motels, fast food, and rest stops and playing with the radio dial trying to find a country station.

We went through Knoxville, Tennessee and headed down the mountain to Asheville North Carolina. When we got to a sign saying Welcome to North Carolina I pulled off the road and hugged the sign as Anita took a picture of me and my goofy grin. But Thomas Wolfe was right: You can’t go home again. Well, you can but it is never the same.

I think I have told the story about getting a job at a GMC dealership as a parts counter employee and then working in Pickens, South Carolina in a Tool factory so I won’t go into that again except to say that the minimum wage was $1.65 an hour and that gave us enough money to buy gas to and from work, buy Anita’s pre-natal vitamins and pay the Doctor. We ate a lot of beans and cornbread (no complaints there) and once in a while a meatloaf or a pork chop. We got by and we found out what time relatives normally had supper and we just happened to stop by. NO, No,  no, we would say, we did not plan to interrupt your supper, and our noses grew a little. Well maybe just a little of those potatoes and a cup of coffee.

Well, Grandma insisted that we go to Sunday services with her. We sat in the pew and out come this holy roller preacher. He did not look so bad at first. He had a tie and coat on. Well that changed, He looked directly at me or so it seemed and ripped off his tie and coat and threw it in the corner. Then he lit up like a Christmas tree and yelled, he did not raise his voice, he yelled as he locked eyes with me and screamed “You sinners are going to hell, you will see fire and brimstone.” I felt pain. Anita had grabbed my arm, and her fingernails had sunk deeply into my arm. She was as white as a ghost. Not like the holy ghost , but more like Casper. Her teeth were gritted and the thought I had was to take it easy honey, we can’t afford to break a tooth. Well as we walked out of the church Grandma looked at us with a great big smile and said, “wasn’t that one of the best sermons you ever heard.” I started to reply but Anita still had hold of my arm with those fingernails still embedded in my arm, so I just nodded.  When we got home, Anita said she had to lay down. I said what’s for supper and she gave me one of those looks and growled fix it yourself. I said Honey, next Sunday, we have to go with Grandma, that’s when they pass the snakes around and she slammed the bedroom door in my face. Did you know that those old Naugahyde couches are hard to sleep on? They are arched and slick. I must have fallen off three or four times that night.

PART TWO

THE TEXAS ROADTRIP AND THE PIGGLEY WIGGLEY STORE

After trying to get a job that paid more than $1.65 per hour, I found a few for $1.25 an hour. I had been supplementing my income by flying to Atlanta once a month for Navy Reserve training. I made almost as much as a week’s wage by going to Ashville and flying to Atlanta on a rickety old cargo plane. Didn’t have to work. Sat in classrooms and drank coffee. One of the instructors talked me into enrolling in active Navy Reserve which meant that I would keep my discharge rank of E-5 and train weekend reservists.  Well, as I was a Navy Aviation veteran, I had several Naval Air stations to choose from, and Dallas Naval Air Station was one.

I talked it over with Anita and she agreed to sign up and go to Dallas. She was not that fond of living out in the woods with only a 22 rifle and some chickens and a small dog to keep her company while I drove back and forth to Pickens South Carolina every day which took about 12 hours of the day. Our little dog was named Loco, and he was a sweet dog who loved us, and we loved him. We piled him in the backseat with a blanket and a bag of dog food and a gallon of water. We packed our suitcases and drove out Frozen Creek Road on our way to Dallas Texas.

As we drove down the mountain’s curvy road to Pickens, I stopped at Scatterbrain Johnson’s bar and had a going away beer. Then I stopped at a few of the other roadside taverns and had another beer.  We were headed to Interstate 95. Well on our way to Pickens, I saw a car in the rearview mirror that looked like a highway patrol car with a light bar on top. I told Anita that she would have to switch places with me and drive. She slid out of her bucket seat  and slid onto my lap and grabbed the steering wheel. In the process, we weaved all over the road as she tried to sit on my lap, and I tried to scoot over into the passenger seat. With Margaret taking up room in her belly, it was a difficult maneuver . Somehow it worked and we got back in the right lane. The highway patrol car turned out to be a car with a ski rack on top. As they passed us, they gave us a mean look. I think they were from Florida. Anyway, we cruised into Atlanta having to stop several times for Anita and Loco to go behind bushes and pee. I was almost sober. We looked for a cheap motel to spend the night. There was some kind of big convention going on and we drove all over Atlanta and even the expensive motels were full . We did what we had to do; we pulled off on a side road, found a place to get off the road, and spent the night in the car. Loco did not know what to think and it was not that comfortable as the Malibu had bucket seats, but the sun came up and woke us up. We got back on the road and headed for Texas. After many, many long hours driving, we saw a sign that said “Welcome to Texas. Finally, said I and it seems we drove another 311 miles to get to Dallas. Just prior to getting to the location of the Naval Air Station which was actually in a small town called Grand Prairie, I saw a hamburger joint off an exit that said WHATTABURGER. Well, if you have never had a Whataburger, you are missing out. I was goanna order two and Anita said just get one and we can split it so’s I orders one Whataburger and two cups of water. Well, the Whataburger was about a foot across, and the hamburger must have weighed more than a pound and a half. We spit it with Loco who seemed to like it. We ate it in the car and must have used a dozen napkins because it was pretty greasy. Eventually Anita, me, Loco and Margaret drove into Grand Prairie Texas with about 23 dollars to our name. We went to several apartments, and they wanted a month’s rent in advance, and they did not allow dogs. So, we ended up on the main drag of Grand Prairie in a small box like studio apartment with one room, one small table and  with two chairs and a small bed up against the wall. There was a very small stove with two burners  but no pots and pans. We made Loco a small bed with his blanket. He looked up at me with confused and Pitiful eyes, and I could almost hear him say: “Dad, I don’t think I like this.”

 

The next day, I drove out to the Naval Air Station and checked in. They directed me down to the Aviation Warehouse and I met the guy in charge. He took me over to the paymaster and they paid me a month’s advance pay. The boss man told me to take the day off and find an apartment.  With a pocket full of money (about $300) we went looking for an apartment. No dogs, No dogs, No dogs allowed. So, we went back to our small apartment and tried to figure out what to do with our baby dog Loco. He knew something was up and he polished off the rest of the Whataburger and looked sad. We loved that little puppy, but the boss man knew a couple with a nice back yard that wanted a small dog. We left Loco with them. I got back in the car and tears filled my eyes. We did go to visit him from time to time, and he seemed happy, but I felt like I had betrayed him. After all, he was a North Carolina dog far from home. It was a tough adjustment.

 

 

 

THE PIGGLY WIGGLY CONNECTION

So finally, you say: “What’s the deal with Piggly Wiggly?  Well, the Piggly Wiggly grocery store was right across the street from out small apartment. As I explained, we had no pots or pans to cook or piss in and only a very small window to throw them out of. So’s I goes across the street to Piggly Wiggly and  buy an aluminum pie pan, a dozen eggs and a loaf of store-bought bread, and a pack of plastic forks and spoons.  We still needed a place to live, and rent was high. We lived on eggs and bread for about a week or so. We used our Whataburger plastic cups for water glasses. We had left our snuff glasses in North Carolina, and I told Anita that as soon as I got a couple of paychecks that I would buy a few real glasses and a couple of coffee cups. Well, we discovered a small thrift store in Grand Prairie and bought some used silverware and a baby crib that we absolutely loved. It was a deluxe crib and the nice people who owned the store let us charge the crib and a small maple desk that we still have (well, not the crib, the desk).

While we were living in our small apartment eating eggs and bread I saw a help wanted sign at Piggly Wiggly.  I went and talked to the manager, and he said the job was doing whatever he told me to do which was mostly stocking shelves, sweeping, and mopping the floors and watering the vegetables with a large spray bottle. Nowadays, the sprinkling of the vegetables use a timed spray system.  Piggly Wiggly probably never updated and some poor guy is probably stuck with a large spray bottle . Mine leaked, no matter how tight I tightened the lid. My right shirt sleeve was always wet. I mentioned it to my boss; Sam and  he told me to just get over it.   He let me work in the evenings part time while Anita stayed cooped up in the studio apartment playing solitaire on the small folding table we ate off of.

Looking back, We were happier than a pig in shit. We never bemoaned our situation and eventually, we found a nice apartment not too far from work with a community laundry. We rented it furnished and there I was with another Naugahyde couch which was uncomfortable, but I was good and got to sleep in the bed. We had a full-size stove, a table and 4 chairs in case we had company. The second bedroom was Margaret’s, and we set the crib up with some dangly toys and awaited her arrival. Anita was getting bigger, and Margaret had started kicking. Not much has changed.  Anyway, back to Piggly Wiggly for a moment.

According to my boss Sam, I was doing a good job stocking the shelves and I had put the beans and corn cans close together and always had the labels out so people could see what was in the cans. Sam told me that he had compliments on my helpfulness with the customers. I was tall and could reach the top shelves and the short lady shoppers would always look me up to reach stuff on the top shelves. Sam bragged on me and even gave me a 15-cent raise. I thought the job was easy. All I had to do was do what Sam told me to do.

Anita found a part time job in a mobile home sales lot hanging curtains and putting towels on racks and whatever was necessary to make the mobile homes look attractive. We felt like we were in high cotton.  We even saved up and bought a 19” color TV at Mervyns for $319.00 . On the same shopping trip, we bought Anita a Singer sewing machine for about $129.00 with all sorts of gadgets to go with it. She made Margaret a lot of sun-dresses and pretty shirt tops .That was more money we had ever spent and the biggest check I had ever wrote.

Sam had me stocking shelves and spraying water on the vegetables one day. He would walk by once in a while as I was arranging cans on the shelves and say: “The vegetables look a little dry, don’t you think?” That was my cue. I sprayed the vegetables and was going back to my stocking job when the incident happened. At the vegetable bins and the meat counter we had a little silver bell attached to the bins. It was a cute little thing and it was pretty loud. Well, as I was heading down the aisle to unbox canned goods, I heard the loudest ringing sound over and over. I turned around and went toward the vegetables. Well, there was this Hugh woman in a dress that looked like a tent with big red flowers on it. Her hand was as big as my aluminum pie plate that I had kept from our poor days. She was slamming the little silver bell over and over. As I got to her, she slammed the bell so hard that it came apart and rolled down on the floor in pieces. I knew Sam would be pissed. In my best customer service voice, I said: “May I help you?” Sam taught me that phrase.  It seemed a little fancy to me, but my job was to do what Sam told me to do. She whirled around and yards of material with big red flowers swirled in the air like a tent collapsing.

I glanced up and saw that she had two front teeth missing and her hair looked like a bale of hay that had started to come untangled. That woman had ugly completely surrounded and she had an unhappy expression on her large face.  She was standing in front of several heads of iceberg lettuce glistening with beads of water I had sprayed. Some cucumbers had fallen onto the floor along with the broken silver bell.

She yelled at me and said: “I want a half a head of lettuce.” Well, I didn’t know if she had confused cabbage with lettuce as we did sell half heads of cabbage since cabbage grew so large in Texas, sorta like Whataburger.  I put on my best customer service smile which I had practiced in front of our bathroom mirror before coming to work.

Ma’am  says I do you mean half a head of cabbage?” Well, I wish you could see the look she gave to me. She said are you an idiot?” I said half a head of lettuce and lettuce doesn’t sound like cabbage does it as spittle dripped down her double chins.  I summoned my best customer service voice, and I said no Ma’am. Let me get my manager and I am sure he can help you. I started walking down the fruit aisle where Sam was arranging apples and bananas. I did not know it at the time, but this big woman was following me with her red flowers swishing as she walked. I got to Sam, and I said Sam we gotta problem. Later it reminded me of “Houston, we have a problem.” Sam says whatsup?

I said Sam, there’s this great big fat old woman  who wants to buy a half head of lettuce and out of my peripheral vision, I saw and sorta sensed she was right behind me. So, then I turned around and said: “And this nice lady would like to buy the other half.” Sam went back to the vegetables and cut a head of lettuce in half , doubled the price with a marker, and gave it to the woman.  He called me aside and said that he was going to give me a dime raise because I displayed exceptional tact. I asked why he had charged her double and he said I noticed the broken ringer on the floor, and I have to buy a new one.  I worked at Piggly Wiggly a little longer and I found a job with higher pay at a service station pumping gas and selling Dallas Cowboy bumper stickers. Once in a while, I would visit Sam, and he told me I would always have a job at Piggly Wiggly if I wanted one.

 

Well, my work job was boring compared to being in Attack Squadrons on Aircraft Carriers, so I put in for a transfer away from the reserves and back to the regular Navy. Margaret had decided to arrive, and she was born at the Grand Prairie Hospital on June 9, 1969. I got orders to Iceland where Margaret’s brother Kyle was born. When the little Icelander was a little older, I told him that I had a tattoo put on his ass that said: “Made in Iceland.” I found him one day with his pants down in front of a mirror looking at his butt. I have some fond memories of those times, and I still miss little Loco.

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