A Plucked Memory

This intro is excerpted from a short story I wrote for my creative writing english course @ GWU.



Dr. J.M. Waiguchu

I have always been intrigued by the person that my father was long before he evolved into an even-tempered and mild-mannered wise man. Till this day, his temperament reminds me of placid waters. One memory in particular stands out – I was ten and my father and I were at Grand Union supermarket in Elmwood Park, NJ. It was a Sunday afternoon and we were busy in the produce isle picking and husking sweet corn. My father was dressed in a white button down shirt, grey slacks, a red, white and brown leather belt and black penny loafers. I have no recollection of what I was wearing. There was a large bin placed next to the pile of corn for the purpose of disposing corn husks. My father, bless his heart, ignored the large bin and instead threw the corn husks on the floor. A fellow shopper, having watched my father peel the husks off the corn and throw them everywhere but inside the designated bin, approached us and proceeded to read my father the riot act. I was dumbfounded and almost in tears as I watched this irate middle-aged white woman wildly wag her finger in my father’s face and curse him out with everything she had. He, unaffected by the angry bee, just stood there smiling. A few minutes later she buzzed off and my father continued husking his corn. “Boy, she was mad as hell, huh?” he said to me as he threw the corn husks inside the bin.

 

EJW