The Time Capsule: Bright moments for a ‘young’ man

Inside every person growing old is a young one wondering how in the devil this happened.  While the thought is a gloomy one, there are bright moments.  I was fortunate enough to have two of them the same day.

It started with a search for a missing receipt.  From my well-worn wallet came faded shopping lists, notes, the picture of an unidentified infant,  two expired credit cards, a 1990 barracks assignment at Offutt Air Force Base, the spare key to a car I traded in ‘02, and I’d only just begun.  Deciding the wallet needed a thorough re-do, I emptied the entire contents into a bowl to sort through later. I then went out to prune a couple of trees. 

Wife, when tomatoes are producing, likes to convert a half bushel or so into marinara sauce, which she cans for use later.  Her recipe, one that includes a nourishing quantity of burgundy wine, produces a sauce much better than anything we can buy. She was into the project before realizing there was not a drop of burgundy in the house.

I was out of bar oil for the chain saw, with branches yet to trim, so there was adequate reason to go to town. Rather than repack the wallet, I took only cash. 

The oil, a pair of jeans and a few other items were purchased at a local farm supply store.  As I was checking out I recalled the store’s policy of an over-55 discount on a certain day of the week. I asked which day, and was told Wednesday. As it happened to be Wednesday, I observed I’d get a few dollars off. The young lady at the cash register gave me a long look, followed by the sweetest laughter.  “I know you’re kidding,” she said with a totally charming smile. “You aren’t nearly old enough.” 

At that moment, I wouldn’t have shown ID at gunpoint, even if I’d had it. I floated to the car.  The discount was of no importance—the young lady’s remark was priceless. She deserves an employee of the month award, a pay raise and perhaps an eye exam.        

Things got even better. My next highlight was at the liquor store, where I sought to exchange a few dollars for a bottle of wine. A lady, also one with a helpful smile, asked for a driver’s license or other pictured evidence of eligibility. I wondered if she might be able to trust me?  This seemed reasonable, partly because I’d known her—if only in a casual manner—for more than 20 years. 

Sorry, no exceptions. The sale could not be made. My appearance was not enough to determine whether I was of legal age. I considered trying another store but feared they’d sell without question and spoil the story. Better to cherish the moment and boast to the wife.          

Her marinara sauce was put up without the benefit of burgundy. While the taste might not be quite up to par, for the next few months every time we have spaghetti I’ll be reminded of a really good day.        

Roy Marshall is a local historian and columnist for the Red Oak Express. He can be contacted at news@redoakexpress.com.