Forty plus years ago I had a good friend that had an addiction to “Titche-Gettingers Department Store in Dallas. During the 1940’s and 50’s this store was right up there with Newman-Marcus for the well turned out ladies in this, the fashion Hub of the Southwest. Now she was not “moneyed” (as we use to call the more financially secure), of which there were many in this, (at the time), small city. She was young, single with a good paying job for a female during these years. Her expenditures were not much since she lived with her parents and used the city transportation system instead of owning a car. So, she dressed pretty much on the same scale…oh let’s say, as the mannequins in the decked out display windows.

Stay with me now, I know you’re wondering what on earth does Titche-Gettingers have to do with Wal-Mart. Well I’m get’en there.

My friend and I have stayed in touch on and off all these years. Her favorite store in the 50’s has long since closed, but her new addiction is Wal-Mart. By the way, she IS a moneyed woman now. I have yet to call her, (no matter the day or time of day), without our conversation sounding about like, “Hi, whatcha do’en? (Her stock response) “I just walked in the door from Wal-Mart”.

In a way, I can understand. After all, she is a widow, her children and grandchildren do not live close by, and she is in her early 70’s and has traveled all over the world. Most of her old traveling friends are gone now. Wal-Mart is almost like….in days past, when one may feel a mite blue and lonely, they could either get in their car (if they owned one), or walk a short distance to the streetcar or bus stop and ride downtown for a little outing. Not necessarily to buy anything, but just to be amongst the shoppers and do a little people watching. However, it is always fun to get a bargain, and you can always use something. Wal-Mart does have about everything. There is a flurry of shopping carts clattering down the isles. The cash register scanner is busy at each check out position and the senior citizen Greeters are friendly and always ready to have a bit of conversation.

I read recently that they have plans to place small medical clinics in some of their stores. In other words, this little city is now going to have its own doctor (of sorts). Then the little town will be prepared to furnish most of the physical needs for its citizen. Who knows they may even add a wedding chapel with a in-house minister. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

Just call me “Chicken Little”. As far as I’m concerned, the sky’s a fall’n. Well ok it’s sorta fall’n. I just read an article that referred to any poor soul of my generation as a vintage. Heck! I just turned thirty-nine thirty years ago. What’s this vintage crap?

So what if I remember when cigarettes were a quarter a pack, and you could drive into the SERVICE station and for five bucks buy enough gas to get half way across Texas (well all most).

So what if I remember when you could light up a Winston filter in your hospital room. As a matter of fact, I can even remember being in the hospital back in ‘61(semi-private and your stay could be more than twenty-four hours) for three days. The other patient in the other bed smoked, I smoked and all our visitor’s smoked. During visiting hours it looked like a busy night at the local beer joint down the street. It actually got so thick at one time, my little ole aunt walked into the room and I didn’t recognize her through the haze of smoke.

What if I remember when women would be considered “trash” if clevage was shown in public. The only exception would be in a modest bathing suit or a cocktail dress worn in the evening to a proper venue.

Yea! Yea! I know what you’r thinking: “I bet the first time this vintage saw the multi-talented Beatles, she thought they should be arrested for imitating entertainers”. You know…You’re pert near right. Now the first time I saw the Rolling Stones I thought Mick Jagger was actually retarded. He looked like a piece of rope with a knot tied at one end for a head. Arms and legs were just kind-a hanging out like frayed pieces of rope flopping in the wind. The boy was not attractive but I do admit his band partner “Wood” made him look some better. Now, I’m not go’na say bad things about Richards…only because I like his guitar playing. He is talented and that does account for something.

Uh! Oh! It’s mite -neer dark, and with all the other ole vintage folk, it’s bed time. Until tomorrow then, that is if I make it through the nite.

What can one say to a grieving parent that has lost a child? It matter’s not how the child leaves this life and a separation from this world is final. The parents are devastated. I lost my son in a boating accident on Lake Travis in Austin, Texas. He was a graduate of the University of Texas. He was a proud Longhorn and a Civil Engineer. He graduated in 1995 and worked in Dallas for three years with plans to get a good foundation in his field. Austin was the city he loved and wanted to live and work. He had gotten his dream job and moved to Austin April 1, 1998 and was killed Memorial Day 1998. Being an avid fisherman, he had taken his small boat and had spent the day with a boyhood friend fishing. They headed across the lake to the marina (it was after dark) to go home. A large and fast (Cigar Boat) evidentally, even though the running lights were on, did not see the small boat and ran over it. My son was knocked into the water and was not recovered from the lake for eleven days. Lake Travis is a very deep lake. I felt as though someone had rammed a hand down my throat and pulled my heart right out of my body. I worried about my kid’s safety the same as all parents, but you never really let your mind think harm will actually come to them, it you did, you would lock them up and tag along with them forever. Therefore, we have a gift from God that allows us to let go when the time is appropriate for them to become independent and young adults.

I am a Christian and my son was as well. I knew that when he believed and put his faith and trust in Jesus Christ, he then belonged to his Lord and Savior. His family was borrowing him for the rest of his life with us. My prayer was that I would have the strength and peace not to let my grief totally “shut me down” as it almost did. It was a long and lonely process for me. Even though, my husband was grieving, and my two other children did not understand why this had to happen just when the dreams and goals for which he had worked so long and hard were becoming a reality. I knew I had to ask God’s help to have the will power to regain my joy in life and encourage them to do the same. Life for us has not been, nor will it ever be the same, but it is still good and we have the joy that makes life so sacred. I think of my son after almost ten years with a smile on my lips, there had only been tears in my eyes for several years. God bless all you parents that have lost a child…no matter what the circumstances…I pray for you to have peace, joy and strength.