We Like Tradition
We can’t get through a December without visiting two of our favorite spots in St. Louis. A ten-person passel made the guest list. Only because Francis and Linnea-Irish had asked friends to accompany. Apparently the companies for which Dad, The Bear, and Rose work – don’t honor the national holiday of Soulard-Crown-Candy Day.
“Look what Grandma Combs gave me, Mom! An M’nM bat!”
That’s the way to start things off. That, and two full pans of fat cinnamon stickies, or as we always called it in the Snicketts house – monkey bread. Linnea also had treats to add to the Puck & Grandma Box for later. She had been bubblegum machine hunting for a pair of handcuffs, which instead rolled out five dollars worth of tiny things in tiny bubble containers.
“They’re kind of weird…” she said, staring at the handful of plastic balls. “Like a… broken starfish? And a cockroach…”
Carrie was tiredly emerging from all kinds of histamine attack racing heart things. Sometimes the weather made things worse. But she got ready to go anyway. A SpongeBob bandaid wrapped her finger, which had swollen kind of badly from being bit by a meadow vole three weeks ago.
We had the better kind of weather this year. A low-hanging gray mist, mild weather. Carrie wedged herself in the seat next to Francis and Zuñi…
“This way I can make sure there’s no hanky panky.”
Mom backed out the driveway as Grandma pulled out the balloon latex stress ball that Carrie had made her.
“Now,” she said, “you’d better watch out with this one. Francis chews on them, and the stuff starts to come out.”
“Francis!”
“What the…”
“Why?”
“Francis destroys everything.”
“Lock everything up!”
“Uhp. Look out. Kids in the street, Mom.”
“I’m telling you. They’re forming a gang.”
“There’s that Lost Cat sign I was telling you about,” Carrie pointed at the stop sign. “I’m telling you. Snuggles got in a fight with that cat and probably killed it.”
I guess you understand the magic of Soulard, or you don’t. Fluffy lion-maned bunnies, bunches of shocking blue and yellow parakeets, boxes of brazil nuts, dollar home-grown turnips the size of your head… Linnea and her volleyball pal [whose middle name was given to her by an Hawai’ian, where she was born] filled up sacks with peppers, aloe plant, and silver rings.
Joe was pointing out places he should live as we passed through the heart of downtown over an hour later.
“You mean that steaming place?” Puck asked, pointing to the closed sewers.
“Yup,” Joe grinned.
“I will live in the sewer next to you, Uncle Joe.”
He might have been convinced otherwise as the conversation continued…
“My friend went down there once to check it out, and he said this crazy lady came running at him, screaming,” said Carrie. “You know what else is down in the sewers?”
“No…”
“Well…”
Puck didn’t seemed bothered…
“I would just spray perfume.”
The Bear joined us, tired and overworked as he was, for plates thick with Reubens, heart-stoppers, big cheese, and piles of malts and shakes. Apparently someone completed the 5-malt challenge in under three minutes. His name was stamped in a coppery nameplate on the wall. Not sure I believe that one… Ten glasses of malt in two and a half minutes? It was a fast lunch, but we caught up on enough things while Grandma chatted with three police officers visiting from Jefferson City, and The Bear bought Puck a white paper bag of Swedish fish and a fat chocolate peanut butter cup for me. Traditions, traditions.
As we left Crown Candy country, we admired the outskirt brick buildings crumbling into calls for renovation.
“I would live in one of those torn-up houses,” said Puck. “I would just build it up again or I wouldn’t and live a good life.”
“Mom!”
“Aaah!”
“Wait!”
“Stop!”
“What?”
“We almost got hit by a Grossman truck!”
It’s pretty much impossible to take a ride in the green slug without a near miss somewhere, someplace. And by “near”, I mean ten feet or more. We waited in a little traffic past the football stadium, as Joe caught an advertisement by the highway…
“The Chippendales are coming back to town.”
“Mom, I know what I want for Christmas.”
“Carrie!”
“Hey, looks like I have a job again.”
“Joe!”
“Yeah. As a ticket man…”
Next stop. Rose’s apartment had been flip-flopped. The furniture had switched sides. Rose, on a rare half-day, downed the single boxed tamale we had brought for her and changed into her black lace dress for the office Christmas party that night. Carrie made adjustments for her while all the kids ran around on the giant cement amphibians at the park. Rose’s first official Christmas tree was lit up to the top, but only one ornament graced its branches.
“Everyone,” Grandma announced. “Think of an ornament you can contribute to Rose’s tree.”
“Sure,” Carrie replied. “I’ve got a wad of gum.”
On the ride home, Carrie was trying not to let the rib get the best of her. But she wasn’t miserable enough to avoid her job.
“Hey!” she slapped Francis.
“What?”
“Hanky panky.”
“What?”
“I follow the Book of Amish.”
“But we’re not Amish,” Zuñi laughed.
“Yeah, she’d have to wear a dress,” Francis protested.
“She can wear jeans. But if she starts showing ankle…”
Zuñi lifted the leg of her jeans.
“Oh! Scandalous!”
Things never stop, I guess. Snuggles greeted us by limping through the kitchen, meowing in pain.
“Looks like his leg is broken…”
“I told you. He killed that lost cat in a cat fight,” said Carrie. “I’ll call the vet.”
About ten minutes later, she and Grandma did the deed before Carrie sat down to business phone calls. Joe walked around with a pair of shoes ready to leave for a film project that Izzy was shooting in the afternoon for school. Francis was leaving for an overnight in Centralia, Illinois, for a swim meet in the morning with Zuñi’s family…
“Bye, Mom. Tell Dad I said I love him!” Francis called back as he walked out the door.
Linnea and her buddy went out walking randomly nowhere. And Grandma and Mom were attending an old time radio Christmas show that evening. So it was just Puck and me hanging out with my work and Rose’s vintage Christmas film collection while Mom napped until The Bear picked us up at three. He needed a half-day, too.
We ended up with a movie night with Carrie and Joe. Some ridiculous 80’s Martin Short dinosaur robot insane child nonsense. Puck and I had already been shopping in the early dusky evening while The Bear napped. There’s something just a little magical taking your son shopping in the evening, when you don’t get to do that much. Blackberries, sea salt pita chips, apple juice, chicken nuggets, crispy fries, and yogurt for breakfast the next morning. Dim glow of yellow lights on the streets in a mist that settled just into the west with the sinking of an orange sun mostly covered. Christmas coming. Watched “The Never Ending Story” for the first time back home… Anyway, we laughed it up some anyway, despite the absurdity of a realm of films we just never quite experienced as children. Except Carrie had to soak her finger. She gave in and hit up Urgent Care anyway due to the pain and swelling.
Oh, and Snuggles’ diagnosis – pulled tendon.