Download - Jaywalking With Jesus- Part 5, 1-4-11

8/8/2019 Jaywalking With Jesus- Part 5, 1-4-11

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You Gotta Have Heart

We stayed out of the basement, but I was red hot andcontroversy, misunderstandings and trouble followed me like heatseeking missiles. I never really tried to screw up, and there was nomalice aforethought in any of my (or the gangs) actions, it justhappened.

Like free-floating aggression, my best intentions became ill-fatedfiascos. Dark, foreboding thoughts of badness would scuttle acrossthese skies of good intention and crowd my mind like a murder of crows. My sweet dreams, when transmogrified into reality, curdledinto a sour, coagulated mass; nothing more than a rotten ball of mozzarella cheese.

Its Valentines Day 1966. I was sixteen years old and at sixteenyou were in love with something, and it was usually a girl. Youalso hated a bunch of stuff, usually yourself, your parents and family,but passions run high in an adolescents world; like rivers during aspringtime flood.

Awash in my own exquisite paranoia, I was in love with theFrenchmans sister, Kelli Sue, who would some day hold dual crowns

of Prom Queen and Pizza Queen. Are those titles bordering onoxymoronic? Whatever, she was gorgeous and loved pizza.

I knew it was incumbent upon me to do something for Valentines Day. The pressure was enormous as my compatriotswith wallets fat as Wendys Quarter-Pounders flitted about onbuying sprees that would make Paris Hilton blush. As my cash flowwas severely compromised, I had to come up with somethingheartfelt and romantic as well as original and unique, but mostlycheap. Like I had always said, I told you, it sucks to be happy withno cash I was loath to admit it, but I didnt have a plan. I didntneed one. Fate intervened and as it turned out, I was destined topurchase Kellis V-Day present from the Meat Department of thelocal grocery where I worked.

Working at Fisher Fazios grocery store had its perquisites. For me, the greatest one was meeting my future wife, Nancy. So

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ethereally stunning, the stores automatic doors would swing openwhen she was twenty or thirty feet away. The store managers wereconstantly calling the automatic door company to fix doors that wereas stunned as they when this radiant woman approached. Looking ather was like looking at the sun without sunglasses; shed burn your corneas out. I was a turtle without a shell, utterly exposed andvulnerable to that merciless predator called love. Of course, I wasrendered not tongue-tied, but speechless. Whenever I saw thevision float through the welcoming doors I immediately began pricestamping Land-O-Lakes butter so fast it melted. So did my heart;but back to the meat department and Kelli Sues gift.

Being the oldest of six kids, I was always a hero of sorts, evenwhen I didnt bring home the bacon; but scads of day old bakery,

bread and half-priced dented cans of foodstuffs. I also had access tothe inner sanctums of the meat and produce departments. Producewas no big deal as it was the kind of stuff my family grew in our forced-labor garden at home, but the meat department was like aserial killers hands-on tutorial.

Damn, I couldnt even identify half the stuff the butchers wereslicing and dicing and strewing about the Meat Department. Astheir cutlery flashed like slivered mirrors, a confetti of red and whitecorpuscles rained from the air and the chill in the air froze my bones.But I finally had a plan formulating, and I desperately needed apresent for my girl. I had a lot of work to do.

As incredible as it sounds, the store had run out of calves liver inthe main grocery meat case. What???!!!... Thered been a rush onliver (go figure) and I had to go back to the meat department to get afresh case. I could only surmise that the really heavy drinkers inGophers Glen were taking these livers home, jumping into their bathtubs with a martini and a steak knife and transplanting them intotheir own bodies.

A great deal of weird graveyard humor went on in the old back-room meat department, so I was ready for anything as Ipushed through the swinging doors. As I walked into that slop shop Iwas surprised to see a cows stomach perched atop one butchershead like a fleshy beret, and was truly shocked to see another cutter

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with a turban of intestines wrapped symmetrically atop his head likea glistening, pink, tubular volcano. Praying it wouldnt erupt, I espieda rather large, dark red, mottled meat-lump the size of a football onone of the cutting tables to my right.

I sidled as unobtrusively as possible towards the lumpy football(past a pigs head impaled on a broom handle), as my feet slid gentlyon a watery floor that was waxed with fat and gristle. Not wanting tobreak the spell of the butchers, I timidly edged closer to whatappeared to be a leathery red, white striped, misshapen soccer ballatop a gore smeared table.

Whats that? I blurted out.

Its a beef heart, now whadda ya want? growled Otto Pickle,the Head Butcher. Loathe to meet his eyes, I stared at Pickles feetthat were awash in a red-gray gruel comprised of fat, fur and cigarettebutts. Where was OSHA back then? Veal cutlet, anyone?

A beast of a man with a huge, bald, fat furrowed head, displayingfingers the size of bratwursts devoid of fingernails; Mr. Pickle was assour as they came. Word was, that after decades of working in thatcold, damp meat department, his feet had actually become webbedwhile dry rot had eaten away all his toenails as well. Beautiful!

Before moving to America from old-world Germany, rumor alsohad it that Ottos father was known as the King of Cutlets, soformidable were his butchering skills. I could just see Papa Pickle inhis Black Forest butcher shop, knife filled hands flashing about likeEdward Scissorshands, veal cutlets flyin through the air like meatFrisbees. I felt sick.

Pickle popped me out of my reverie by repeating, Whadda yawant, kid?

Nothin I replied. I came back for a case of liver for a Mrs. JanHart I said playing stupid. I was real good at that! I snuck a look atthe soccer ball beef heart and my glance was just enough to send theGoo-Crew into a fusillade of ridicule.

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Scared of little old cow heart? Beef got your tongue? Bet youcant eat just one! Ha, ha I thought, very funny. Stinkin meat heads.

Suddenly, inspiration hit me like a meat cleaver.

What are you guys going to do with that beef heart? I asked.

Well, the Pickle said, we usually sell em but theres not muchdemand YET. Ill tell ya something he rambled on, If people knewwhat they were missin; chompin down on a cooked cow heart issome damn fine eatin. Were hoping the American HeartAssociations awareness month jump starts demand. Why?

Well, I asked, how much is it?

Look Jack, Otto said, Like I said, there aint much demand for the big beef pumpers in this hoity-toity town. If you want the damnthing you can have it. I couldnt believe it. A free beef heart!

In a trice I ran to the shoe store next door and grabbed an emptyshoebox for my heart. Running back to the meat emporium I wasgiddy as a schoolgirl. Plowing through the swinging doors I grabbedmy prize by an aorta the size of a fire hose and swung it into the boxId lined with meat wrap. The Pickle and the meat-men gave me aquick round of fatty-handed applause for my bravery, and like a pursesnatcher I darted out the doors with my booty. Weighing in at about 5lbs. and capable of pumping 10,000 pints of blood a day, this was atruly formidable organ. Wait till the guys see this!

I punched out a half hour later and while driving back to GlenDrive, I fine-tuned my plan for the big bruiser of a heart. Question: Isthere a better way to say I love you on Valentines Day than givingyour girl THE VERY SYMBOL of love and devotion? I think not.

Arriving home, I thrust the big throbber into the refrigerator, andthen sat down to write out my Valentines Day love note to thatlucky Kelli Sue. I was willing to bet no other girl in Gophers Glen(other than Mrs. Pickle, but Otto would rather eat it) was going to geta real heart for V-Day.

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V-Day fell on Saturday that year, and I was primed to make anindelible impression of love on Kelli Sue. I pulled a white legal padin front me and began to pour my heart out

Kelli Sue: I know things have been a little rough between us lately.Night school, the draft, our jobs, families and just everyday stuff makes everything more difficult. I just want you to know that on thisValentines Day that youre more special to me than ever.

.So as you read this, believe me when I swear I would do anything for you, and give anything to you; even my heart. When you lift this

page to see your special V-Day present, remember this is a very special gift for a very special woman. I mean this from the heart.

Kelli , I may not have much material crap to give you like a rich guy can, but I am honored to give you my hope, my trust, my love and,yes, even my heart. It is yours to keep frozen in time, or literally frozen, forever.

With ALL my heart Love Jack,

I called Kelli Sue and told her I was coming over with her Valentines present. I also told her DO NOT under anycircumstances lift the love-page before shed finished reading it.Unfortunately, Id removed the meat wrap lining so the greatthrobbing heart could be seen in all its naked glory. That was all fineand dandy, but in the time it took to write the Love Boat note anddrive over to Kelli Sues, arterial blood had pooled in the bottom of theshoe box. I didnt know this of course, and as I blithely handed thelove box to my favorite girl, all was well with the world.

Sitting down on a bench against the garage with the shoebox onher lap, Kelli flipped open the box and began to read. As she readwith a wistful smile on her face, I was startled as my disbelieving eyeswatched drops of blood dripping from a corner of the shoe box. Iclenched and unclenched my fists as Kelli Sue continued to read theletter, absently wiping tears away as raw emotion overtook her.

I watched with great trepidation as a growing volume of beef blood starting seeping out of the box onto Kellis khaki shorts. Like a

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Bounty paper towel absorbing water, I watched with macabrefascination as the blood spread like a huge maroon ink blot on theKellsters creased shorts. Now openly whimpering with unprofessedlove and fealty for me, the Big Ack, her latent love welling in her throat like volcanic magma, Kelli whipped off the paper that coveredthe ultimate symbol of love; a real, bleeding heart!

Almost simultaneously, Kelli Sues eyes and brain registered theheart, the blood and the ruined shorts. Everything was happening inslow motion and I saw her arm go back before the sounds of her screams reached my ears. Following her arm motion like a batter trying to pick up the rotation on a curveball, I wasnt at all surprised tosee the beef heart hurtling towards me with veins and arteries trailingbehind like red papier-mch streamers.

Jag-off, she shrieked. I ducked from her perfect pitch at the lastmoment as the great throbber flew over my head unloading a gravityfed contrail of blood and guts that streaked the top of my head andthe back of my shirt. Nervously trying not to chuckle and shakingbulls blood out of my hair, I stood to face the consequences of loveand blood gone bad.

Honey, I just wanted to show you how much I love I never finished.

Kelli ran into her house and the last thing I saw was that hugewine stain of blood on those perfectly pressed khaki shorts. Dang,talk about a St. Valentines Day Massacre, I was dusted.

Incredibly and inexplicably, I retrieved the beef heart and froze it,only to give it to the Frenchman (again, Kelli Sues stepbrother) threeor four months later as a birthday present. Like Mikey in the Lifecereal commercial, Wayne liked it, and we kept it frozen so wecould intermittently pull it out of the freezer and toss it aroundWaynes front yard. I actually kept a VCR tape (later turned into aDVD) of Wayne and Craig throwing the beef heart against a pitch-back net, desperately trying to catch the gnarled, fissured organ as itrebounded back at them over the outstretched jaws of the Frenchfamily dog, Scroot.

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The heart is a lonely hunter, and none of us can recall whatbecame of my frozen token of love and friendship. One can onlyhope the great tawny colored French family dog named Scrootscurried off with the great beef heart to gnaw contentedly away on thefatty, gore filled heart-sicle. Spoils to the victor!

Reservations Only

The grocery store proved to be quite an incubator for good ideasgone awry, kinda like a reverse Boys Town. I was head of the floor

cleaning crew every Tuesday night and the store manager had givenme the power to hire four or five guys to assist me. Among theChosen Few were Wayne and Craig along with a few other Gophers Glen boys. Wed move everything off the floor and scrapegum and stuff (like the Daubers) off the tile floor before scrubbing withan Advance floor machine, then wed wax it.

Then came the wait. Not being able to walk on the freshly waxedfloor for 45 minutes to an hour gave us some break time. It becamebreak time indeed. What started off as having a few snacks and asoda pop or beer or two evolved/devolved into something elseentirely. Of course with Wayne it wasnt a few snacks and a beer, itwas quite a bit more.

Ill never forget turning into aisle 2 one night to see Wayne on hishands and knees with an open bag of Campfire marshmallows infront of him. He appeared to me as a human chipmunk hovering over gigantic white nuts.

I could see there were only three or four marshmallowsremaining in the bag and in between his little moans I asked theFrenchman if hed indeed consumed most of the bag. Lookingupwards at me (he did look a little green around the gills) he noddedin assent.

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Thats not all I had he mumbled. I dont think its just themallows that are gettin to me.

Well, what else did you snack on I asked.

I started with a whole jar of Sue Bee honeycomb he swooned,almost toppling over. Then I had a jar of Ma Cohens creamedherring, then I had a couple of Wonder Bread dough balls I rolled up,then I chugged a quart of Sealtest chocolate milk. I think I may havehad some of those barbecue pork rinds too.

Let me ask you Wayne, I said. When you ate that jar of SueBee honey, did you eat the comb too; you know-that waxy part?

Oh yeah he replied almost proudly. It was kinda chewy, but iteventually went down.

God help us all. But back to what these break timesevolved/devolved into.

Wed hang in the rear of the store where the produce departmenthad these hot-sealer plates that would melt/seal that plastic wrapover and around trays that held vegetables, fruit, whatever. I was justfoolin around one night and slammed a strip steak onto one of theplates to see if it would cook. Cook? These hot plate veggiewrapper-melters were better than George Foremans Mean LeanGrillin Machine is today!

Just the right temperature to sear the USDA Prime meat whileleaving that pretty pink center was AUTO-MATIC. Bobby Flay andEmeril would have been proud.

Well, before I knew it we were enjoying canned Club Cocktails, alittle white wine and Lowenbrau beers before dinner along withappetizers like (Waynes fave) Ma Cohens creamed herring, SlimJims, pork rinds, cheese popcornyou know; the really good stuff youre not supposed to eat when your older and wiser. Wed segueinto our entrees with a good buzz, tearing into filets, crab cakes,potato pancakes etc., finish our jobs and go. Naturally, it didnt takelong for the fly in my ointment to buzz up.

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I remember standing at the doors of the backroom, looking at theglistening, freshly waxed aisles of the Fisher Fazio grocery store.Wed done a fine job, and as I took a long drag from my stolen LuckyStrike, I was pulled out of my reverie when I overheard Wayne asksomeone behind me Do you have reservations?

I turned to see Wayne, a white towel draped over one arm,standing in front of a Specials chalkboard menu leaning againstsome empty pop bottle cases. Soup Du Jour, Boston Strip, FlankSteak What the hell is this , I thought. In the background I couldsee Craig showing people (that I didnt even know) to tables thatwere nothing more than upended boxes and cartons. I could almostenvision a three piece combo playing music in the corner surrounded

by cases of Big Bob head lettuce. I shook my head like a wet dog.

Wayne I said. Cmere for a second. Wayne, distractedly andsomewhat sheepishly sidled up to me.

What the hell is goin on? Over the produce department PA Iheard Craig blare out Martin; table for two, table for two for Martin isready.

Well, the Frenchman began, I thought it would be a good ideato expand the menu along with the seating capacity and see where itcould take us.

See where it can take us? What are talking about? I growledthrough clenched teeth. Flicking down my Lucky and grinding it outwith my heel I turned to look Wayne. What menu? Seating capacity;what seating capacity are you talking about? Who the hell arethese people? I dont know any of these jokers.

Its some people from Solon, I think said Wayne, but dontworry, they do have reservations.

I dont care where theyre from OR that they have reservations Ihissed. Are you outta your mind? I asked. Its bad enough werecookin and drinkin and dining in the back room of a grocery storewith a full wet-bar I continued, but we cant have the general

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populous coming in here for dinner; reservations or not.

At that moment the stores maintenance man Ted Whaley came inthrough the back door. Needless to say he was rather upset anddidnt think my offer of a Gift Certificate for dinner for two was funnyat all. As he so eloquently put it, I was gonna have a lotta splaininto do to the store manager tomorrow.

Id already done a lotta splainin to the store manager a fewweeks earlier following another near disaster. When I was told to getrid of a bunch of ants that were crawling around a big pipe in the backroom, I did. It was HOW I did it that was problematical. The antswere crawlin around all the way to the top of ceiling about fifteen feet

up. I figured the best way to reach the enemy was to enlarge thehole in the spray nozzle of Aqua-Net hairspray with a pin and shootit on up there and poison em.

Well, this liquid attack it didnt seem to have much of an effect.This really amazed me as some of the older ladies about town usedthis Aqua-Net stuff and it rendered their hair impenetrable; a bluesheath of thinning curls encapsulated in a sheen of highly inflammable stinky hair spray. How could it not kill ants?

However, I thought if I ignited the highly flammable stream of hairspray with my lighter Oh, that worked alright. It was aminiature flame thrower, shooting a stream of fire about 20 feet long.With a whoosh it shot outta the hairspray can to immediatelyeradicate the ants as well as set the wall and ceiling of the back roomafire. After Gophers Glen Fire Department left, I did indeed do alotta splainin.

It was with this heavy, recent history that I approached the storemanager the next morning with hat in hand to beg forgiveness for therestaurant fiasco.

I almost got fired, but after having a nervous breakdown andbegging the manager to let me stay on, he did and my job was saved.

Years later, Wayne, Craig and I were hanging out and knocking

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back a few beers while watching a Cleveland Indians game andintermittently helping Wayne fill out a resume for a part time job.Glancing at the resume I couldnt help but notice Wayne had listedRestaurant Manager as a past job.

Wayne I said. I have to ask you something. When the hellwere you ever a manager for a restaurant? I asked.

Well, that little gig we had going on at Fisher Fazios grocerystore years ago; remember? I know it was a little rough around theedges but I WAS basically managing it.

I couldnt believe my ears. Rough around the Wayne, it wasus and a couple of co-workers eating off the bottoms of up-ended

soda pop cases I said incredulously. We didnt even havesilverware! For Gods sake Wayne, WE didnt have reservations!

Jack-in-the-BoxReally

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