Socks. I’m in here to buy socks. That is why I was in Kmart that afternoon. I was about 12, and I had been living in a small resort town in New Hampshire for about 3 years. I was distracted by the irresistible pull of a 12-year-old boy to the electronics/music department. The 10 spot my father gave me was just the perfect amount to buy the latest K-tel mix tape, and the walkman clipped to my belt buckle was whispering, "Feed me. Feed me." But I was there for socks.
As I tried to work out what my father would do to me if I came back with a handful of songs by Flock of Seagulls Billy Ocean, and Bananarama instead of a handfull of cotton tubes, I looked up to see none other than Stephen King right next to me comparing the extra large package of Haynes "crews" to a similar package with "Fruit of the Loom" at the top. Let me pause here to say that everyone in my small mountain town has claimed to see Stephen King at the local Kmart. He lived just across the Maine border, and our 13-store mall was the only relatively close place to "Shop Kmart Smart!" I can't prove he was there that day, and maybe I did actually see him, but on a different day. Either way, since I really only need one Kmart story, it seems appropriate to include Mr. King here. Or maybe it's Dr. King that I am remembering. I am quite sure Reverend King was NOT physically there on that day, but he was there with me in spirit as I felt a tug on my shirt from behind.
I turned around to find a young boy of about 6 or 7 wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. "Hey mister!" I looked at him and pondered just when in my 12 years on the planet I had earned the title “Mister.” He looked back at me with big, curious eyes and continued, “Are you a nigger?...”
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...
"Am I a what?"
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...
If nothing else, the boy was patient. He just stood there looking at me for what seemed like minutes waiting for me to process my answer. First, I had to decide If I even heard him right. Maybe he had just learned in school about superlatives and his world had just opened up for consideration of what is big, “bigger”, and biggest...
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...
Nope. He said "nigger" alright. So where did he even learn that word? Wait! Where did I learn that word? My parents were white, I hadn’t read Huck Finn yet, and gangsta rap didn’t typically play on Magic 103.7 - Hits of the “White” Mountains. Do black people just inherently know this word? Has it become part of our genetic coding? No time to ponder. This upstanding young prodigy of New Hampshire’s finest is patiently waiting for an answer. Okay, stay calm. What would Martin Luther King say?
“I have a dream. I have a dream that one day... children will live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their...
...
...
SOCKS?"
"I’m here to buy socks!”
As I tried to work out what my father would do to me if I came back with a handful of songs by Flock of Seagulls Billy Ocean, and Bananarama instead of a handfull of cotton tubes, I looked up to see none other than Stephen King right next to me comparing the extra large package of Haynes "crews" to a similar package with "Fruit of the Loom" at the top. Let me pause here to say that everyone in my small mountain town has claimed to see Stephen King at the local Kmart. He lived just across the Maine border, and our 13-store mall was the only relatively close place to "Shop Kmart Smart!" I can't prove he was there that day, and maybe I did actually see him, but on a different day. Either way, since I really only need one Kmart story, it seems appropriate to include Mr. King here. Or maybe it's Dr. King that I am remembering. I am quite sure Reverend King was NOT physically there on that day, but he was there with me in spirit as I felt a tug on my shirt from behind.
I turned around to find a young boy of about 6 or 7 wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. "Hey mister!" I looked at him and pondered just when in my 12 years on the planet I had earned the title “Mister.” He looked back at me with big, curious eyes and continued, “Are you a nigger?...”
...
...
"Am I a what?"
...
...
If nothing else, the boy was patient. He just stood there looking at me for what seemed like minutes waiting for me to process my answer. First, I had to decide If I even heard him right. Maybe he had just learned in school about superlatives and his world had just opened up for consideration of what is big, “bigger”, and biggest...
...
...
Nope. He said "nigger" alright. So where did he even learn that word? Wait! Where did I learn that word? My parents were white, I hadn’t read Huck Finn yet, and gangsta rap didn’t typically play on Magic 103.7 - Hits of the “White” Mountains. Do black people just inherently know this word? Has it become part of our genetic coding? No time to ponder. This upstanding young prodigy of New Hampshire’s finest is patiently waiting for an answer. Okay, stay calm. What would Martin Luther King say?
“I have a dream. I have a dream that one day... children will live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their...
...
...
SOCKS?"
"I’m here to buy socks!”
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