Stalling by GJ

Yes, I'm stalling. Been meaning to post something, but two distractions are keeping me slowed. First, I'm trying to find one-room-school-like memoirs that I know I have, somewhere. Second, I'm trying to find a way to convert them into either e-mail, or WORD, so that I can post them. Daughter Nancy has been trying to work with scanner on my printer, which is probably not more than basic. That doesn't work, so far. Old stand-bye Charlie says he thinks there is software that will allow me to convert and edit (which is essential.) Anyone know of anything that would help? (All Nancy can get is a "picture," but not the "text" of what I need.) I looked up programs on internet and it's all Portuguese in a Chinese dialect to me.

So, I've been thinking. Maybe a younger reader would get a little something about "ancient economics" from this story.

In about 1950, while studying at U. of Illinois, Jean and I got a letter from Dad one Friday morning just as we were starting out to get grocieries for the weekend. Dad informed us that he wanted to drop down on the train from Chicago on Saturday. While there was often a five dollar bill, or more in his letters, there was none this time. I asked Jean how much we had for groceries, now that we needed more. "Five dollars," she said. "Will that do it," I asked? "Nope," she replied. So, we started out on the ten-minute drive, both deep in thought as to how to stretch five dollars to feed three adults and a toddler, and assuming there was already enough for the baby. For five meals each, that is.

At an intersection downtown, I pulled up behind a very fancy, limousine-like sedan, possibly a Packard, or Lincoln. When the light changed, I heard the woman trying to start her car, but thought she was in danger of wearing down the battery. (Often happened in older cars those days.) I finally got out and approcached her window. She said she was out of gas. There just happened to be a gas station about 100 feet across the intersection, and our "bumpers" just happened to match pretty well. (Historical note: 1940's car bumpers were much better fit for pushing one another.)

I offered to push her into the station, no big deal whatsoever. I did so, but before I could pull away, she got out and came over to my window, thanking me profusely, and trying to hand me money. I told her it wasn't necessary and gently pushed her hand back at her a little. She tried again, and I said I couldn't, or some such thing, and just as she was asking for the third time, I felt this jolt on my right leg...the one down near the floor next to Jean's left foot. Before I could say a thing, the woman dropped the five dollar bill onto my lap, smiled, and walked away. "Twice was enough to be nice," Jean said. We now had doubled our purse and Dad never knew how "tight" the weekend could have been.