Shopping With Mum Poem by Richard D Remler

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I was a young lad,
Barely four,
And I was learning from Mum
On a trip to the store.
And watching her point
To the this and the that,
When her eyes fell on one man
Who wore a trucker's hat...

"There's Mr. Fenwick, " she says,
And he waves and smiles wide.
He's just getting out of his car,
And we're heading on inside.
"Mr. Fenwick owns the Bowler Run.
Eight whole Lanes of Bowling fun."
But we don't bowl. We just say hi
As Mr. Fenwick passes by.

"And there's Mrs. Bibbit over here,
She's always been a Hobart's Cashier."
"Are the apples fresh? " Mums eyes pop wide.
And there's a nod from Mrs. Bibbit's side,
And Mum mutters her thank God
And continues in her mocked facade,
As the cool indoor air blows free,
And Mama heads to the Iced Tea.

"Your Grandmama's diabetic, see.
So her Iced Tea must be sugar free.
And that means good taste has to go.
Just don't tell her I let you know."
And we lug it in the shopping cart,
At the Newford Castle Ridge Shopper's Mart.

Mom pushes the cart up one wide row,
Snags a bag of chips, and off we go,
To the produce, where Momma tells me so,
This is where the carrots grow.
Where lettuce sprouts right on the tray,
And pirouettes in their ballet,
Beside mushrooms, cabbage, onions too,
Enough to make a proper stew.
She asks if I want broccoli,
And I nod a giant NO.
I was ever certain broccoli
Was poisonous and vile.
And if I was gonna beat 'em,
I was never gonna eat 'em.

She suggests I'd like a Brussels sprout,
And then I see her dig -
And when she finds a couple,
I insist they're way too big.
I point and stare and mutter, "Eeew, "
And lied just like a pro.
"So you won't eat a Brussels sprout? "
She asks. And I say No.

She grabs a big zucchini squash,
And she mentions something called Goulash,
She's fixing with the minestrone.
So, we're gonna need some macaroni.
And she turns a corner on a dime,
And hits her air-breaks just in time
To give Mr. Bone a frightful start,
And miss Mrs. Landsley's shopping cart.

"That's Mr. Windsome over there,
The fat man with all the wavy hair.
He lives way up on Baker's Hill,
And not one strand of his hair is real.
But, oh, he'll comb it, yes, he will.
He'll brush and comb that mop until
Those silky threads start falling out
And he looks just like a cabbage sprout."

We get the milk, the eggs, the cheese,
Some frozen okra, and some peas.
And something very cold and blue
She claims is for the barbeque.
And I see Momma's happy face
In that brightly lit and frosty place,
As she tosses in a cherry pie,
Something she calls an impulse buy,
A box of Double-Dipped Chocolate Extreme,
And a secret stash of whipping cream.

"See that old man over there?
Oh, for heavens sake, Richard. Don't stare!
He's the preacher, yes, the one in plaid,
Who married up your Mom and Dad.
And he's nice as you could ever guess,
But he tends to smell an awful mess
Like celery in a cabbage stew
All simmering in a green shampoo.
And you can tell your Uncle Buck
That Cabbage Shampoo Stew is yuck."

"We 'll fry up some green tomatoes, too."
She smiles at me,
And we agree.
She snags a few, then bags some more,
Maybe twelve, or eight, or four.
Now she's racing past the roasting hams
For all the honey, jellies, jams!
For peanut butter in a jar,
And of course I get my candy bar.

"There's Mr. Bender, " Mum pipes
As she snags some baby wipes.
"He used to write about the war,
But I don't think he does that any more.
Now he always seems so lost and sad.
It's quite a life that fellow's had."
And Mum smiles at the man
Who doesn't seem to know we're there.
He turns and walks the other way,
And all Mum can do is stare.
She looks so sad, and I can see
Her pain as she looks down at me.

The Cashier lady smiles wide
And Mum cheers up a spell.
It seems that her and Mum
Know each other rather well.
The lady starts to ring things up
As Mum plops her plunder down,
A stack of every coupon that
My Mum has ever found.

Her words still echo in my mind,
And I bring them back from time to time,
Those golden moments worthy of a smile,
Safely captured in my memory file.
I guess it's true, those things they say -
We learn something new most every day.
Because I sure did when I was four,
And Mum took me to the store.


Copyright © MMXII Richard D. Remler


**A Children's Tale**