Sent to town for flour and other important stuff and loving every step of it! I usually don't enjoy the grocery store runs, but this morning was really different. We were infiltrated by a group of folks that were just going through our area and they needed provisions. I am prone to sit on the sacks of dog food stacked up in the front of the store and visit with other men on similar runs. We don't run, by the way!
The vehicles outside were clues as to the fun going on inside. The trucks were mostly half-ton makes at least 10 or 12 years old and each bed contained a homemade little house. Not a camper, a house or home was what the trucks hauled. The colors were bright and each one painted with all kinds of emblems and pretty flowers . Some had a wagon attached with another little home in it. The one with a rocker occupied by an older man smoking a pipe caught my eye.
I found my sack of Hound Dog and sat down next to Charlie, but we didn't speak. The store was humming with a language I don't understand and kids were like little bees, just everywhere. All of us locals were watching and mesmerized by the sights and sounds. Carts of potato sacks piled high, another of flour and another of sugar. Some had cans of shortening and other commodities necessary for family living. The pushers of the shopping carts lined up at the two checkout stations and began the business of paying. The men and children were suddenly very quiet and orderly and I realized there were no females in the group of adults, only men.
Charlie whispered for me to look at the garb they were wearing. I already had to remind myself not to let my mouth hang open in shock, because they were all dressed like the folks in Bonanza stories of Gypsies. What a deal for us in this part of the world. We had shock written in capital letters on our faces and several mouths were hanging open!
The children filed out the doors and I turned to look through the window as they each found the right little house to enter. The old trucks rocked a tad as the kids climbed up to the doors and went inside.
The first to check out paid in cash and I heard him speak perfect English to the clerk. The rest followed suit. We rubberneckers turned to watch as the goods were delivered to each house in the caravan. A sack of spuds for you, a can of lard and whatever else was divided up to each!
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, I witnessed a sight I never dreamed I'd see! I will always be grateful the others can verify the sight because my close relative and her offspring would never have believed me. There are still people who choose to live a little different in our country. They can because this is America, the home of the free! They, like me and you, are free to house themselves as they please.
God bless America!
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette-area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 03/09/2016