Keeping the Candy Counter (Grandma Jane Story #2)

The small copper bell fixed above the door rang sharply as Jane hurried in, just in time for her shift at Kress’ five and dime.  Her low heels echoed across the store as she headed directly for the candy counter.  The other girls, situated behind their counters, paused midway in their greetings; Jane was not herself.  They watched her remove her coat and hat and hang them on the communal coat hanger.  One coworker, Ruth, crept cautiously towards Jane as she fumbled to get her gloves off with shaking hands.  Jane smoothed out her dress, and with head kept toward the floor, began counting her till’s starting balance.  When she had finished recording the balance, Jane slammed the till closed.  She looked up and jumped back slightly when she saw Ruth standing silently opposite the counter.  Ruth could now see that Jane’s face was streaked with tears.  Ruth grabbed the white handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to her friend.

            “Who died?” Ruth whispered, leaning across the counter to stroke Jane’s arm.

            “No one,” Jane replied, dabbing at her eyes and inhaling deeply as her breathing returned to normal.

            “What is it, then?”

            “I’m engaged.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

After he received his draft notice, Norm headed to Fort Lewis.  Jane followed shortly after on a bus by herself to say goodbye.  While he was stationed with the Air Force in Oklahoma City at Will Rogers Field, the couple wrote to each other.  When it came time to join the war, Norm’s eyes didn’t pass, so he couldn’t fly.  Instead, he became a link instructor – someone who taught people to fly using instruments. 

Jane continued to work at Kress’, supervising the candy and cosmetics departments.  The job provided fifteen dollars per week – five of which went to her parents for room and board – as well as a social outlet.  Jane had good camaraderie with the other sales girls.  Customers paid for their merchandise at each separate counter.  Once they had a cash register contest and Jane managed to go two weeks with her till perfectly balanced.  “Not even a penny off,” she said. 

           

The items on the counter corresponded to extra supplies in the exact order beneath the counter.  That made inventory very easy.  The basement housed boxes of candy and quite a number of mice.  One time, they sent an order from the basement on a dumb waiter and it came up with a mouse on it! 

           

Norm and Jane talked about marriage before he left Yakima.  Sometimes an event so meaningful is heightened by the necessity of simplicity. I think about how people get carried away with weddings, spending small fortunes to make sure the dress is perfect, the cake is unique, and every guest leaves with something monogrammed.  The absence of those niceties brings a sacred focus on the purpose of the event – to commit two individuals to each other for a lifetime.  Without fanfare, Norm sent Jane a ring through the mail and she cried because he wasn’t there to give it to her. 

When Norm came home on leave, they got married.  It was December 7, 1944 and they were both 21 years old.  Jane wore a gold suit with a corsage instead of a bouquet.  Norm wore his Air Force uniform.  Jane’s best friend Mary Lou and Norm’s brother Vern flanked the couple.  They wed at a priest’s house because Norm wasn’t Catholic.  The reception was at the Gaudette’s house. 

            

Following the wedding, the newlyweds joined Norm’s parents and brother in their large Packard, back over the pass to Seattle.  The couple stayed at a hotel for one night, and then took a train to Oklahoma.  Because it was a special occasion, their honeymoon, they splurged on a compartment.  This included one room with bunk beds, a chair, and a sink and toilet in the corner.  They shared the bottom bunk, but Jane refused to go to the bathroom in front of Norm.  Instead, she used the public facilities down the hall.  Only servicemen could get meals on the train, so Norm got enough food for two.

           

When the Reids first arrived in Oklahoma City, they stayed in a hotel for three days.  Then, they moved into an apartment.  Norm went to the base everyday while Jane looked for a job.  She found work at Kress’ dime store, supervising the candy department once again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jane held up her left hand, which glinted with a speck of diamond on a golden band.            Joanie shrieked and abandoned her cosmetics counter post, running over for a closer look. 

            “I didn’t know Norm was back in town!” Joanie grabbed Jane’s hand.

            “He’s not in town. He’s still in Oklahoma City.  The ring came in the mail today.”

Jane’s tears returned, and by now customers were arriving, milling around the store.  Most pretended to be engrossed in shopping, but a few bold ones stared openly at the scene.

            “Jane, you can’t expect everything to work out like a fairy tale,” Joanie dropped Jane’s hand, “We’re at war, you know.  Gosh!  If Edward would send me a ring in the mail, I’d be skipping around this place!”

            “I know, I know.  I’m crying because he’s not here to give me the ring in person.”

            “You’ll be together soon,” Ruth cooed reassuringly.

            Joanie and Ruth sandwiched Jane in a quick embrace and returned to their counters.  The day’s first customers needed their attention.  A young girl stepped up to the colorful mounds of candy and slid a penny across the glass.  Jane reached for the payment, and the girl’s bright green eyes lit up.

            “Wow.  Pretty ring.”

            “Yes, it really is,” Jane smiled with genuine joy, pushed the coin back, and measured out some butterscotch discs.  “Have a wonderful day, Sweetheart.” 

Once I Met Norm, That Was It (Grandma Jane Story #1)

Several years ago, I asked my Grandma Jane if I could write down stories from her life.  Little bits I'd heard growing up fascinated me; like, she and her younger sister shared a bed until she got married.  I knew there was gold to be found through listening well.  So one summer, I spent afternoons at her house, sitting on her bed surrounded by old photos, writing as fast as I could to record not just the stories, but her quotes and feelings too. 

When I went home and typed it up, I realized I'm not very good at making history sound as interesting as it really was.  I turned to my imagination.  I read and reread my notes, and tried to become my grandma as a young woman.  After all, at the time, I was only a little older than she was in the stories.  What resulted is my grandma's true stories, quilted together with my created dialogues and details as introductions and conclusions.  It's different to imagine my grandma making out in a car, but the way she talked about this first scene certainly wasn't prim and proper.  I tried to do that justice, without making my grandma seem too racy.

Grandma Jane passed away this spring.  I use my imagination now to picture her in heaven, reunited with Norm, the love of her life.  I miss her terribly and hope her stories will bless those who knew her and those who can relate to having a very special grandma in their life.  

A knock on the car window brought Norm and Jane up for air.  Remaining close and staring at each other, it took another firm knock for them to realize that someone was outside the fogged glass.  Jane quickly smoothed her hair and dress as Norm rolled down the window.  Leo Gaudette, Jane’s father and a local police officer, leaned down to rest his crossed arms on the car window while staring intently at Norm.

“Your father’s been calling all evening, Norm, trying to find you.  You just got your draft notice.” 

The three waited for someone to say something.  Surely there were words that could fill the silence and make everything feel normal.  Their mouths remained suspended open and no words came.  The news took awhile to sink in, but it wasn’t a complete surprise.  Scenes just like this were playing out in friends’ lives and with young couples all over the country.
Leo frowned slightly, patted the car two times, and ambled back into the house.  The couple sat in silence, facing forward, cold air from the open window quickly defrosting the glass and creating goosebumps on bare arms.

My grandpa Norm died fifteen years before I was born.  When my grandma Jane tells me about him, it feels like we’re a pair of girls discussing her latest crush.  The crush began in 1943.  Norman Reid was a twenty-year-old aspiring pilot who had come to Yakima, Washington from Seattle to be a part of the Civilian Pilot Training program.  When he and his friends had downtime, they cruised the growing agricultural town on their bicycles.

On one such day, Jane was waiting for the bus to take her downtown where she planned to meet a friend.  A big group of pilots-in-training rode up on their bicycles and engaged her in conversation.  Norm took the lead and Jane thought he was forward.  He stood tall, made direct eye contact, and wasted no time finding out who she was and where she worked.  Jane wasn’t sure what to think about his directness, but she liked the way Norm’s face broke into crinkled lines around his eyes and mouth when he laughed.  When Jane noticed Norm’s buddies leaving, he reluctantly pedaled off to catch up. 

The very next day, Norm showed up at Kress’ dime store and strode over to the candy counter where Jane was lost in her inventory list.  He promptly asked her out and in my grandma’s words, “That was it.”

That was it for any other boys who held onto hopes of Jane marrying them after the war.  Jack Loman, a Marine, was one of the disappointed suitors. Jack was cute but very shy.  They dated her senior year of high school and kept in touch after that.  At one point, Jane assumed they’d get married someday.  When Jack came back in town on leave, he asked why Jane didn’t wait for him.  Jane’s reply was, “Well, I met Norm and he swept me off my feet!”

           

Long moments passed with Norm and Jane sitting silently, staring at a streetlamp through the car windshield and listening to muffled sounds of neighbors’ radios.  Norm took Jane’s hand in both of his, brought it up to his mouth and gently kissed her cold fingers.

“May I walk you to your door?” he asked, her hand still close to his lips.            

Jane turned towards him with a weak smile.  “Yes.”            

“May I see you tomorrow night?”            

She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed as tightly as she could.  “Yes.”            

They got out of the car and walked arm in arm to the Gaudette’s stoop.