Phil – Part II

Since Phil gave piano lessons during the day he liked to take naps during our shift. This wasn’t a big deal with me. Our job was to stock the shelves and serve as cashiers. We were generally busy up until 2:00 AM, that was the cutoff for wine and beer sales. At that time we’d pull a curtain down over the wine and beer cooler letting people know that the products were unavailable.

Phil used to take some of his naps in the restroom, which was located right off one of the aisles in the rear of the store. I usually left him alone unless we got busy, then I’d need to wake him up. The store sold boxes of caps for toy pistols – red rolls of caps, a few rolls in each box. The restroom was small, accommodating one person at a time. One night, as Phil was sleeping, I took a box of caps and a hammer, put the box of caps on the floor right outside the restroom and hit the box with the hammer – BANG!!!!! – old Phil came out of his sleep and the restroom with eyes as big as saucers – it was a sight to behold. I won’t repeat what he said – but I have to say that the prank was a thing of beauty and evoked everything I could have hoped for. As my Daddy used to say, “It’s all in fun.”

Red’s Market was famous for it citrus fruit and its peanuts. The sidewalk was lined with citrus – varieties of oranges and grapefruit. We also had an old peanut roaster on the sidewalk and during our shift we’d roast and bag peanuts – and how those peanuts would sell – people loved them. The peanut roaster was kind of like a concrete mixer, you’d put raw peanuts in a horizontal cylinder and it would rotate over a gas-fed fire. As the cylinder turned it squeaked, not a high-pitched squeaked, kind of a lazy squeak once every rotation. It was the perfect squeak for a hot Florida night, and when the traffic settled down on South Orange Blossom Trail the squeak remained to provide cadence for the night. The smell of roasting peanuts and the dependable squeak of that roaster remain with me today.

One night a red-haired gal shopped in the store and Phil struck up a conversation with her that led to some type of relationship. She’d stop in a few times a week to chat with Phil. The reason I remember this is that the woman had an infant and she’d leave the infant in the car while she was inside the store. From time-to-time I’d walk out in the parking lot and look in the car at the baby; I’d wonder if she’d leave a million dollars in her car – and I’d think, “No, she probably wouldn’t leave a million dollars in her car.” Then I’d think, “Then why would she leave her baby by itself?” Kind of funny…the things you remember…isn’t it?

Working the graveyard shift can be pretty interesting in terms of the people you meet – and we had times when folks didn’t want to take “no” for an answer after 2:00 AM – they wanted alcohol whether it was legal or not. We had to call the sheriff more than once.

Phil left town and headed north in early 1978. A year or two after that I visited him in Portland, Maine. He was back with his off-again and on-again girlfriend whom he had known for years – I’ll just leave her name out of this to be safe. That was the last time I saw Phil. We did exchange letters now and again in the early 80’s, and in the late 80’s I managed to find a phone number for his off-again and on-again girlfriend who at the time was in New Jersey. I think I got the number from Phil’s mother in Portland, Maine. I called the girlfriend and she told me that Phil had left her again, but that she’d probably see him and would give him my phone number – I never heard back.

I have prayed for Phil all these years, and Jake his son – my how he missed his son. Well, I’ve still got to share with you why Phil is such a significant person in my life…I guess we’ll pick that up in the next post.