It happened this way.
I only had an ancient TV set my sister had lent me. It worked
sometimes, in some manner, but we decided that a young couple, both
professionals, needed a modern, working television that befit our new place in
society. There were only three commercial stations and PBS available, so
installation would be simple. We could retire the heavy metal thing that had
served me, when it chose to, until that point.
So off to Sears we went. Why Sears? It was the “in” place to
shop back then, It carried everything. Besides, Brenda, during her first year
of teaching, had acquired a Sears credit card. We were saving all our spare
cash for the purchase of a home, so paying a TV off over a few months didn’t
seem like a bad idea. Despite our good intentions, though, the plan almost went
to hell.
A middle-aged salesperson showed us the choices, beginning
with the most expensive, of course. As he babbled, I foresaw storm clouds gathering
on the distant horizon. As far as the salesman was concerned, Brenda was
invisible. This was a transaction between two men. This particular set would be
great for watching those Razorback games or the popular local fishing show
hosted by Jerry McKinnis. Just look at those colors. “Sir, you can’t go wrong with
this one.” I heard the unmistakable sound of steam beginning to rise. The man
just kept talking, his face only a few inches from mine.
Just for the pure fun of it, I suggested that he might ask
her what she thought since she was the one paying for it.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I thought you were married.”
“Oh, we are,” I said. “But it’s her credit card.”
A curtain of clouds spread over the salesman’s eyes. I might
as well have told him that we were arranging a loan from a far-away planet in a
distant galaxy. “You mean,” he said, “that she has her own credit card? And you
want to buy a television set for the both of you with it? With her credit card?
She really has one? I’ll have to check about that.”
Brenda began to move toward him. A voice from behind us saved
his life. “That’s Mr. and Mrs. Jim von Tungeln,” it said. “Whatever they want,
let them have it.”
I turned to see a face I hadn’t seen in years. It was young
Woody Bohannon, son of the elder Woodrow Bohannon, one of the true eccentric southern
characters produced in such abundance by our state. I hadn’t seen young Woody
since my high-school graduation. He was a couple of years behind me and had
always struck me as one of the nicest young men on the planet. I would learn that
he had attended college, graduated, and gone to work for the retailing giant,
already reaching the role of senior manager.
We had a nice visit. The salesman sold Brenda a television
set, thus assuring his continued life in the corporate world. Brenda maintained
equilibrium, but it took a while for the steam to dissipate. Everyone finished
the evening happy.
That Saturday night, we watched a show that had started
airing the year before, one called All in
the Family. It was about, as we saw it, a bigot forced to live in an
increasingly diverse and tolerant world. We thought it pretty funny at the
time.
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