Meet The Flintstones

s/e cor of York&86st @1953

Friday, early 1960s, food shopping with Mom at Sloan's on 86th and York. I looked forward to it. I had two ridiculous supermarket addictions: grape jelly glasses and giveaways in detergent boxes. I never liked jelly, still don't - but that never stopped me from needing the glasses the jelly came in.  A glass with Fred Flintstone or Barney Rubble on it after you dumped the jelly?  Seemed like a no-brainer. Mom caught me slipping it in the grocery cart. “Put it back, you don’t like jelly.”

“No, no, I do.”

“Liar, do not.”

“No, I like jelly now.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do; and Rory loves it. Rory, you love it, right?”

“Huh?

Mom took one jelly glass and threw it in the cart to shut us up.

Next day at breakfast, I’d said, “Mother dear, would you like a crispy English muffin?”

“Yes, thank you, Master Thomas.”

I’d toast her muffin and glob half the jelly jar onto every nook and cranny, earning Mom’s pathetic look, the one that said, “Tommy, I have nothing left to give.”

Detergent makers gave away drinking glasses. I became obsessed with them, too.  I have no clue why. Maybe because I was always thirsty and the glasses in TV commercials made all beverages look better.  When Mom wasn’t looking, I’d grab one of the detergent boxes and hide it in the middle of the shopping cart. We’d go to the register and I’d start passing items to the cashier.

“Mom, let me do it. Why don’t you rest over there on the window ledge?” 
Rory was climbing over the empty egg boxes piled up in the store’s front window, I figured she'd chase him. This worked a few times until Mom got wise. Getting caught didn’t matter. I was deemed hopeless. Emptying the cart herself onto the conveyor belt she saw the unwanted box of soap “How did this get in here?”

The cashier made eye contact with Mom and nodded toward me. I began moving toward the exit, a fresh TV Guide in hand getting ready to plan my viewing week. When we got  home, Mom and I unloaded the bags and Rory onto the hallway floor.  Then we carried the stroller down to the

cellar, parking our family car for the night.



If you enjoy my work, check out my memoir, "I Hate the Dallas Cowboys - tales of a scrappy New York boyhood." It's available at Logos Bookstore, 1575 York Avenue, or buy it online at Amazon, Barnes and Noble or other booksellers. The book has 130 five star reviews out of 130 total reviews on Amazon. If you do read it, please leave a few honest words about the book on Amazon & B&N.