My Little Poopoofnik
A True Story
By
Robert A. Chapin
Copyright 1984
Smashwords Edition
Revised September 2, 2011 for font style and size and paragraph reconstruction.
In my home town of West Brookfield, Massachusetts, in 1963 The Beetles were the rage. My father was a die hard Elvis fan - and how dare this weird group from England covet Elvis’ turf.
So much in fact, that in our house, my sister fainted when they appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show in February, 1964. Once she regained her composure, my dad sent her directly to her room, for which she never forgave him.
I just turned 17 and with money saved from odd jobs was able to buy my first car: a 1957 Ford Fairlane Convertible Retractable Hardtop - for $100.00 from one of the seniors in high school. It was red with a pure white top. He was desperate for the money needed to attend college.
Lyndon Johnson was president, the cost of a new home approximately $20,000, gas was $.34 a gallon for regular, bread was $.54 a loaf and a new car about $2100.00. Nevertheless, I needed to pay for my car and a hundred bucks I owed on the car might as well have been ten thousand!
There was a small mom and pop grocery store in our town perhaps you remember the Red and White grocery chain. The owner was a gentleman by the name of Eddie Dyjak. My parents would frequent the store for the best meats and vegetables in town and always ran up a bill. Something you could do back then.
Entering the store today would have be like walking into a time machine. They don’t have those small mom and pop’s anymore. I recall the aroma of the soap powder and the sawdust on the floors. The fruits and vegetables. I can still smell the oranges and grapefruit. That was a time that will forever be burned in my mind’s eye.
Mrs. Dyjak was the person who worked the cash register and unlike her husband, never cracked a smile. She was all business - feared by the kids who entered the store to buy a bottle of Coke or a Snickers bar. She definitely did not endear herself to the youth of our town.
On one visit to the store Mr. Dyjak asked if I was looking for a job and I jumped at the chance - especially with a car to support. On my first day of work I reported directly to him and with his usual friendly manner, he shoved a feather duster in my back pocket, tied an apron on me, licked his hand and swiftly swiped it across my cowlick christening me “my little poopoofnik” and I was ready for work! First, was the chore of unloading the truck from the supplier. There were various cases of products. Soap powder, canned goods, first aid items, and what seemed to be hundreds of other shelf items.
Every day before I began my shift, Mr. D. would prepare a freshly made ham or turkey sandwich for me - over and above the objection of his wife who always threatened to “take it out of my pay” come payday.
Mr. D. was a compassionate man who had to have taken many a financial loss when faced with never denying a needy family food. When slicing and weighing the lunch meat, he always threw an additional two or three slices in the package. He very seldom weighed anything and carried a black grease crayon in his ear with which to mark the price - always in favor of the customer.
I have to say I really loved my job and Eddie Dyjak. I dusted each shelf and although I made every attempt to stay clear of Mrs. D, there were times when she would follow me around the store just to be a nuisance. When payday finally came, true to her word, she wanted to dock me for an orange Crush soda and Snickers candy bar - but Mr. D. told me the job included the soda and candy as part of the perks. This did not settle well with his wife and there were plenty of shouts and disagreements between them - but I must say that in the end Mr. D. was always the victor.
I even made deliveries to the elders in town, loyal customers for years. He did a land office business. There were no large supermarket chains, like Walmart, Giant, or Harris Teeter etc. To this day whenever I walk into a large supermarket and pass the fruits I can still smell his small Red and White grocery store. Whenever I open a box of detergent I can smell the aroma and see him working at his prized spot behind the meat counter.
Working for Mr. D. afforded me the opportunity to date Marilyn Snell. A beautiful blonde who was definitely going to be the mother of my children. I was barely seventeen and no one could tell me how difficult the future was going to be. On several occasions Marilyn and I went to the drive in where we necked until the windows were all fogged up. The theater had a watchman who had to have been 80 years old, carried a nightstick and as he passed your car would whack the bumper just to keep young lovers in line.
I can still smell the French fries and hot dogs from the concession stand - and the aroma of fresh popped corn. Not like today where the major theaters purchase a 20 pound bag of something that was popped a week earlier and cost $.25 cents back in 1964, is now $6.00. Remember the commercials for the food? There were the ones showing hot dogs, and soda, fries, and of course popcorn. I miss those days - and Marilyn, who never did become the mother of my children.
Vietnam was on the horizon and it was ten thousand miles from West Brookfield, Massachusetts, and I would NEVER end up there - or - would? Back at Dyjak’s market I attentively plugged away at my work sweeping the old sawdust at closing time and laying down the new. I was able to pay for my car and on weekends spent time shining it up.
This little poopoopfnik endured the lick of the hand and smearing it into my hair as a daily routine, and I became fond of the title. Mrs.D. seemed to soften a bit, but perhaps it was like the saying that parents tell their children:
“It’s amazing how stupid I am as your mother or father when you’re sixteen, and how much I’ve learned when you turned seventeen!”
I left Dyjak’s Market about a year later and as life changed, so did my desire for a newer car. My dad passed away in May of that year, and Lee Iacocca had just developed the greatest car of the century: The Ford Mustang! My mother co-signed for the $2200.00 fully loaded 1964-1/2 Mustang, and I was now on my way to bigger and better things. I graduated from high school in 1965, became an orderly at a local hospital and was drafted into the Army in 1966. I served in Vietnam with The First Cavalry Division was awarded The Purple Heart, and returned to an assignment at The Pentagon.
Sadly, on my birthday, December 19, Eddie Dyjak passed away in his sleep at the age of 42. He was one of the kindest people I ever had the pleasure of knowing and now I miss “My Little Poopoopfnik”
No! I never did keep the Mustang, but if you read my short story: Lee Iacocca, The Baby Boomer, and My Mustang ’64 you will find out what happened.
I would appreciate a review if you liked this story. I have a series of them (all free) for your enjoyment. A review goes a long way in promoting an author’s work.
Thank you!
Bob