Apr. 15, 2002 - 19:58 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Adventures Of A Bench Rider

I can, if push comes to shove put my oxy bottle and cane in a grocery cart and supported by leaning on the cart as I push it, I shove my through the aisles. But only if I can't get out of it.

A lovely spring day today and we went to see Heather's brother. A trip to the nearby Mal Wart was proposed and executed. Poor Heather, in between two old crocks on oxygen who don't have energy enough between them to light a match on sandpaper. She is surely a lady.

This Mal Wart is not in Denver proper but out where wheat fields, goat heads and sand burrs once thrived, just north a bit from what used to be the Hog Farms and abutting a hamlet which once consisted of do-it-yourself homes, some of which still exist. It still is a mixed city/country place which is reflected in its clientele.

I settle on my bench by the checkstands to see real life in operation. To also see as many different types of people that exist. Sombreros, cowboy boots some of which apparently came right from the corral, Jeans - clean on both men and women, the dirty, greasy ones worn by men who just got off duty and are stopping by on the way home. Memories attached here, I used to work in a winery and had to stop off to do business in wine soaked work clothes. Fortunately sales people read my actions rather than my stench.

Some young, some old, some feeble, some bold, mixing, matching people flow through the checkstands in streamlets, joining the outflowing river of well provisioned humanity to the parking lot. The tall the short and the in between, as well as the fat and lean, in all stages of beauty and handsomness, men, women and others are seen. Clad in what they fancy or can find to wear. All purchasing the things they need. Proud parents with infants buying high chairs, changing tables and maybe a potty chair accompanied by bales of diapers. Old folks like me with modest requirements have a small load in their carts to be carried by hand in a bag or two. Other folk with lamps and appliances. Of course groceries galore. Such an amazing variety of people here and infinite are the number and quantity of items in their carts. Then there are the ones like me, crippled (not handicapped dammit - they do that to horses and golfers) with their canes, oxygen bottles and necessities for their survival in their carts. I notice people like me are becoming more numerous and wonder if it is because people no longer look down on cripples, therefore more of us are getting out or if truly we are beginning to totally outnumber those still working. Tiny kids in various postures some with heads on their arms, asleep while the shopping is done. Like all children, every one of them is beautiful while asleep. Then there are the fidgety, crying infants, kids tugging on Mom's coat tail whining for some imagined thing, deemed a necessity by the kid.

Something I have been able to do more or less all my life is to rapidly wink each eye alternately. An innocent pastime for me is to notice a child looking at me and go into the alternating eyelid routine. The reactions are so different, some are bashful and look away when they see me do it, some I know not why will pull on their Mom's hand pointing at me. That is taken care of by me going through the routine while looking straight at the child. Many little ones will wrinkle their brows striving to do what I am doing. As they pass by sometimes I will give them a smile and a wave with a nod to the parent. To this point I have not been busted because some paranoiac called the cops.

This thing, sitting on the bench, tuned into humanity is such a pleasure, better than watching TV -- no reruns.

Of such things are the Adventures Of A Bench Rider . . . . . . .

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