Somewhere in the box of notes in my mind...

It was thirty two years ago, probably this week, that I got my first lunch box. Probably walked up and down the aisle at Ayr-Way or even Mr. Wiggs to find the most awesome lunch box to take to school. It followed the adventure of going to the grocery stories. Plural. We shopped Maloley's, Kroger's, A & P, Rogers and Scott's (the one on North Clinton, the one that had the giant hot dog that hung from the ceiling). Friday was grocery shopping day but it was also the time we stopped at Belmonts. Not the liquor store, though I am sure my parents probably wished it was on the weekly route. Sometimes, I would get to go to Kings, which was next door to the North Clinton Scotts. This Scotts also gave out free donuts to the little munch-kins. Trust me, I was powder-sugar faced all the way through the store. I remember these things like they were yesterday. I remember K-mart before Martha Stewart got her evil hands into it, and we would get the submarine sandwiches there for lunch. This was were I did my first theft. Note to self and others, the little books of crossword puzzles...not free... Which makes me mad to this date, that I could get free food for the walk around the store, but I could not get a little bit of mind candy for the growth and development that my brain would need. This led to another brush with the morality law when I would later steal a rock from a garage sale or rather a barn sale. I still have the rock as a mental note of what I should never do again. Rock sits on my desk at home and I have had that rock for about thirty years. Now, mind you, who in their right mind would be selling a rock in a barn sale. Why would I even want to steal a rock? The answers are buried deep somewhere in the box of notes in my mind...