Posted by Craig Faanes Keith's mention of his bus ride out of town reminded me of the many times I'd stand outside when the bus arrived. I'd watch the bus driver pulling bags out from underneath, always mesmerized by how he know that THAT bag belonged to this person on the bus. And that bus also was a big part in my growing feelings of wanderlust. During the Cuban missile crisis in October 1962, our fifth grade teacher (whose name I've forgotten for good reason) took us to the train depot to watch National Guardsmen take off for Fort Lewis Washington (I recounted that day in the chapter on Cuba in my book). After we saw the troops off, but before going back to school, several of us, Keith Popko among them, darted over to the drug store to tell tales about what we had just seen, and to wonder more about what was going to happen to all of us because of what was going on in Cuba. Each time I've been back in Cameron as an adult I have driven by our old house to check on things and if there has been one other place that I've checked out religiously, its the drug store. It saddens me to see it having been converted to apartments because it was our "place" when we were kids. One of the things I detest about growing old is watching change and wondering why things can't be like they were when the world was more carefree. I wish the drug store was one of those things that didn't change. Richard O'Brien smoked????
on 1/6/2005, 6:44 am, in reply to "the Drug Store"
164.159.194.72
I remember the drug store quite well. Its where I took the first lust of my life (in grade 4 no less) for a "date" coke after school one day. Its where my dad used to receive his calls from customers. When I rode with him while making his rounds, we'd sit in the back behind the cash register and my dad and Georgia would drink coffee and tell stories. Its where my mom would send me to get cigarettes for her (they eventually killed her) and I still remember the time I took one of the cigarettes out of the package to smoke it on my way home (probably 8th grade). As I fumbled with the package to open it, telling Dorothy my mom had hurt her hands and needed me to open the package for her (which was bogus) I remember Dorothy taking the cigarettes from me, opening the package, handing it back to me and saying "Craig, I wasn't born yesterday. Your mom's hands are just fine. She was in here 2 hours ago." My first lesson in never being untruthful to a woman because they always know! Dorothy was at my mom's funeral in November 1996. She remembered me from my childhood days in the drug store, and asked me if I remembered the time I asked her to open that pack of cigarettes for my mom!
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