I went grocery shopping Thursday. Everything seems to happen when I go grocery shopping. Probably the only time I’m out and paying attention to others around me.
A great many years ago, in another incarnation or so it seems, I knew a lady named Vickie. She was (or is, if still alive) white. She married a black man, in the then atmosphere of the services. A terrible strain on her and her marriage. It resulted in some strange behavior and actions from her. I was transferred before knowing the end of that story.
She had a personal bent as an artist. She’d draw pictures filled with anger, agony, and hate; stark violence in every form, twisted tree’s and roiled skies. All her art was in Green and Black Crayola on white paper.
Then there’s the current post mistress here in the village. Her name is Vickie. She is the mother of the ex-deputy, an OD’er of prescription drugs (supposedly), twice married and divorced, mother, also of another son of dubious reputation.
Which is not to relate they were/are terrible people. Just to point out their common names and the tribulation laden life they slip and slide into.
And then there is the third Vickie. That’s where the grocery shopping comes in. This Vickie is originally an Okie. She’s approaching her fifty-fifth year, I suppose, but maybe is somewhat younger.
Her family, in her home town, were grocers, and later in her life, truck stop managers. Finishing high school she began working in all the enterprises of the family. The lady is familiar with customer services and product. Their ordering and handling, and the machines associated with the businesses, including the business of butchering.
This Vickie met and married a great bear of a man. The fellow stands six foot six or better, weighting greater than 320 pounds. Which is where, I’m thinking, I should point out that Vickie is a 5’ 8 inch tall woman of goodly width, not fat so much as having what woman are fond of calling child bearing hips.
Like many, some will notice, of those physical characteristics, Vickie’s mental attitude is negative baby machine, woman is more than male collateral, I have a mind. One child to temper the hardwired system God gave the female body and to satisfy the male’s bonding impulse and then find a life.
A no nonsense attitude.
(We’ll continue the story tomorrow)
From the reaches,