They
revolved slowly and tantalized my eyes from beyond the plate glass of
the Buster Brown Shoe Store. The toes and heels were a deep burnished
red leather. Then, crowning the top of the shoe was a soft black suede
saddle. But the soles were the best part. They were bubble gum pink like
September’s new erasers, and they unmistakably conferred the
impression that their tasteful wearer was one independent thinker.
Sometimes there are things you just know, and at twelve years old, I was
fully certain that having these shoes would be the one strategic
decision that could turn my life around. It was a kind of calm resolve
that I adopted. Somehow...some way...I would wear them. I had not a
doubt that once accomplished, all feelings of Junior High school
inferiority would evaporate.
The shoes cost $18.95, but my allowance was just seventy-five cents a
week. By the time I could save enough to swing this on my own, they'd
have gone out of style.It
would have been torture to see these shoes walking on another boy’s
feet. To witness his relief at being plucked from the slow-death ooze of
unpopularity while I continued to languish there. “No,” I said to
myself, it was time to act.
That
night at dinner I lobbied my father.I pointed out the value in being the parent of a preteen fashion
idol, and I tried to get him to understand the difference having these
shoes would make in my life.It
was a delicate balance…I wanted him to realize how important it was,
but I didn’t want to appear desperate either.When it was clear he hadn't gotten the message, I patiently began
again.
But it wasn’t in the cards. Not this time anyway. Midway through my
second attempt, he raised his hand up for silence. “You want these
shoes...? Fine, then you'll work and save and one day you'll have
them.”
“Pass the meatloaf,” he said to the table.
I felt the stinging tears of despair.I knew I was careening out of emotional control, but by now it
was a runaway train.
Then it came to me.It was
the idea from heaven and yet so simple… I would run away.
Maybe this was just a test of my mettle. Maybe my father wanted to see
what I was really made of. If that was it...if he was only upping the
ante... well then, I’d show him some real hardball.
Everything
I knew about running away in 1960, I had gleaned from Tom Sawyer. You
wrapped your belongings in a red bandana and tied it to the end of a
stick. Then you hitchhiked.
Once this idea settled in and started to seem possible, I regained my
composure. In fact, I was feeling smug. I looked across the table at my
father who had a forkful of mashed potatoes poised in mid-air. “I’m
leaving home,” I said. “I’m running away, and I won’t be
back.” As soon as the words were out, I saw that I had missed optimal
timing, but you can't un-ring the bell. Dad swallowed his potatoes and
he pointed at me with his fork.
“Write when you get work,” he cracked.
Up in my room, I scavenged for my red bandana. The only thing I could
think to pack was underwear, so I rolled a few pair of jockey shorts
into balls with rubber bands around them. The bulging bandana dangling
from the end of my mother’s mop handle had a nice heft to it. I put it
over my shoulder and slipped silently down the stairs and out the back
door. The rush of freedom and worldly possibilities took my breath away.
I had been pushed too far… for too long...and now the chips would have
to fall.
My Hopalong Cassidy watch said
6:45 pm
.
Streetlights
and headlights were blinking on, and it started to get chilly. I should
have thought to bring a jacket.I
stood shivering at the foot of the freeway onramp with my thumb pointed
toward the road. It was a little like fishing and hoping for a bite.
Cars slowed while their occupants analyzed me but none stopped. There
were station wagons of families with kids in the back, but they drove on
into the dusk.
Finally a Volkswagen camper pulled over. Inside, was a couple with the
man driving.
“Where you headed?” he asked.
Up until this moment I’d given no thought to destination. “Wherever
you're headed will be fine,” I tell them.I sat on the bunk bed in back, and we aimed for the highway and
my new life.
They glanced at my stick with underpants poking out from the bandana,
and I guess they figured things out.
The woman pulled five dollars from her purse and handed it to me. “You
take this,” she said. “We have it and you need it.”You seldom encounter people so kind.
They let me off at a gas station in the high desert. There was a pay
phone in the office, but I didn't call home. It felt too soon.
Hopalong
pointed to
1:00 am
.
I stood on the road with the mop handle and my thumb pointed out.It was cold now, and windy. After a half-hour of hitchhiking,
only two cars passed by. In the gas station’s bathroom I found one of
those warm air blowers to dry your hands. So I’d hitchhike for a
while, and then go in and run the blower on my frozen fingers. I was
about ready to cave in and call my parents when a big-rig
eighteen-wheeler whooshed by. I heard the steaming blast of his
air-brakes kick on as he passed, and the big truck hissed to a stop. It
was huge and shaking and loud like a locomotive and for a moment it
scared me, but I ran up to the passenger side door, which was already
open. The driver was big and round and soft looking, and he had a full
white beard that made him look like Santa.
“Hop in Sonny, got no time to waste.”
The cab smelled like hamburgers and beer, but it was warm in there so I
got in. There was country music playing on the radio.They were songs about whisky and heartache and lonely wasted
lives and I felt bad for the driver who probably lived that life. We
made a little conversation but soon I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke
the sun was coming up and we were rolling into
Las Vegas
.
“This is your stop boy, I got a load to leave off.”
I thanked him and hopped out. It was early but
the day was already warming up. Little ripples of heat came up off the
roadway and made the air blurry. On the other side of the highway there
was a Denny’s coffee shop and I went in with my bandana swinging. The
counter was lined with tanned wrinkled men wearing boots and cowboy hats
and some turned to look at me as I passed.A few grinned and chuckled, but I nodded to the group, found a
seat and ordered a coke.
I had been doing fine. My new life was off to a good start.But the jukebox in the corner was playing “The Wayward Wind,”
my mother’s favorite song, and all of a sudden a wave of homesickness
washed over me. What in the heck was I doing?
I
finished two cokes, then went to the pay phone and called home.
My father answered. “Where are you?”
I wondered if he was holding his temper so I wouldn't hang up.
I hesitated a minute. “
Las Vegas
” I said quietly.
“WHERE in
Las Vegas
?” he pressed.
“At Denny’s”
"Listen to me,” he said. “You stay put.
It’ll take me a few hours to get there.” His voice was calm and I
couldn't tell what he was feeling.
I blew the rest of my money on a stack of pancakes, and just waited for
him to show up.
It
was afternoon by the time he arrived.When I saw him pull in, I came out and got in the car, still
lugging my pole and bandana.I
didn’t want to give the cowboys at the counter another reason to
snicker, at seeing my father pick me up.
During the ride home there were long silences, but in-between he told me
how worried they all were. And about how the police had been out looking
for me.
Sometime during the trip back home I noticed things were different
between us. I wasn’t sure exactly how, but in some way our
relationship had shifted.I
guess he noticed it too, because when he spoke to me, it seemed like for
the first time, we acknowledged one another as equals.Or maybe he respected what I had done, the defiant courage of it.I don’t know, but when we were a mile or so from home he took a
wrong turn. I started to say something...to point out how we were
off-course, but before I could speak he handed me twenty dollars and
parked behind the Buster Brown shoe store.
As it turned out, the saddle tops did little to change my life. I was
still unpopular and insecure at school and I came to realize that
nothing would fix that. But my father and I were different now and would
be forever after.
I wore them every day, but after a couple of weeks they rubbed blisters
on my heels, and I think eventually they went to Good Will.
