there's a lady who knows

Stairway to Heaven / Led Zeppelin












I’m not sure most people cannot tell you the times in their life when they changed. Those moments when some little thing within them snaps or shifts and from that point on things are different. They are different.



I know those times, perhaps not all of those times, but at least some of those times. The first time I remember this was as a teenager. Formerly I had been a quiet, shy nerdy, kid. I was until the change moment a bit on the scared side and certainly without the self confidence that was required if you were to become noticeable. Of course, in later years, people would not believe this. They would say, “You? Shy? Quiet? Impossible.” And it is undeniably true that as time has gone on, well, I’ve gotten worse.


The change moment occurred one day in the supermarket of all places. It wasn’t one of those big chain box stores. No, this was the local, small time, family owned and operated market. It was the kind of store that in comparisons to the nation wide chains have no stock, dirty floors and narrow isles. It was the kind of store that still held personal accounts, and one could go through the checkout line and then merely provide a last name and a notebook would appear from on the counter.


On the particular day in question, I was out shopping with my mother. It was a spring day. One of those early spring days that is hot and teasing about the summer that is just around the corner. She’d picked me up after school and I think we had some other required errand. But we were both in good spirits, silly with the sun and good weather.


I remember we had ambled the length of the story, switchbacking through the isles. We were traveling down the last isle, the frozen foods and dairy section, when we both looked at each other with the same thought: ice cream!


“Go pick out a flavor…” My mother suggested as she abandoned our cart to head towards eggs.


“What flavor do you want?” I called, heading the few steps in the opposite direction.


“Whatever.” She called back, as I stood frowning facing the double glass doors. I knew we did not have the same taste and the choices were numerous.


What do to? What to do?


“What’s your choice?” She prompted, and that’s when it snapped.


I don’t think I ever would have done this if I had not been in a silly, mood. But my eyes landed on the Heavenly Hash, and it began.


“Heavenly Hash!” I said, my arms shooting into the air. “Hallaluah! Yes indeed, Heavenly Hash!” My voice was raising and I was trying not to laugh. My mother shot me a look that said, ‘Really?’ And in response, I dropped instantly to my knees before the cart and case. “It came to me in a dream! It did, I say. Heavenly Hash!” I wailed and then collapsed in a fit of giggles as people started to round the isle and I noticed some of the customers and employees taking a step back to see the performance.


“Okay, get up and put it in the cart.” My mother said, eyes rolling, but laughing too. I did, but something had changed. I was no longer shy. It didn’t even bother me a week or so later when my mother reported that the store clerk had asked if her daughter was okay.