1979: a bologna sandwich and resentment (on the run)

I wasn’t a rebellious kid, but I did attempt a typical “I’m running away from home” operation in 1979 when I was nine. I don’t recall why I threatened Mom with my indignant departure, but it probably centered around her refusal to let me walk alone to 7-11 to play Space Invaders and buy Jolly Ranchers with the roll of pennies my grandpa gave me.

Like any kid with a serious mission to hit the road, I grabbed a brown paper grocery bag. I packed everything I’d need to be on the move for several weeks: a few stuffed animals, a loaf of bread, a package of Oscar Mayer bologna, and a squeeze bottle of yellow mustard.

My mother sat in the kitchen, casually allowing me to prepare for my grand exit. I thought she’d try to stop me, but she asked, “Do you have everything you need?” I ignored her as I left, slamming the screen door to punctuate my resentment.

Our little white house was across the street from a tree-filled hill leading up to a title company’s parking lot. I didn’t know what a title company did, but I assumed it was related to books. I climbed the hill, my sweaty paw gripping my crumpled “luggage.” My grubby flip-flops slid on the carpet of needles as I navigated the upward path through the massive Georgia pines. When I reached the top, I sat on the curb of the lot, making sure I was concealed, but able see my house. I was brilliant.

I wasted no time unpacking my travel food, assembling a sandwich with THREE slices of bologna instead of the one mom served. Ha! Take that! As I ate, I carefully peered through breaks in the trees—no sign of Mom. My mind shuffled between wishing she’d come after me and planning my hobo life.

I remember hearing stories about my grandpa jumping into empty rail cars and traveling the country with nothing but his wits and a sense of adventure. (As I later learned, he also had a flask of hooch and a penchant for “taking breaks” from his family.)

Naturally he carried a bindle stick stuffed with meager belongings. I imagined him squatting by a campfire, heating a can of beans with comrades he’d met on his travels. They’d sing cowboy songs and sleep under the stars. I could have that life, too! Maybe I’d jump off the train in a backwoods town and find a job as a dishwasher in a greasy spoon. My mom had only just let me wash the after-dinner dishes, but I needed to stand on a stool to reach the sink. They’d probably have stools. I’d only need to earn enough to pay for room and board. And the occasional Space Invaders game. And roller skate rental. The town would have a library, right? In my haste, I’d forgotten to pack Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great. I was only on chapter three. I hoped my mom would realize it was was a library book and return it. I didn’t want to have to pay a fine.

As I took the last bite of my road grub, I decided the vagabond life might be too complicated; plus, I only had enough sandwich supplies for a few days. I repacked my bag and butt-scooted my way down the hill. (I didn’t want to lose a flip-flop.)

I casually entered the house. My mom sat at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette and working on a crossword puzzle. She didn’t say a word as I quietly returned the leftover bologna, bread, and mustard to the fridge, went straight to my room, and closed the door. She would not get any satisfaction from me. As far as she knew, I was taking a break and would head back out later. I unpacked my stuffed animals, grabbed my book, and stretched out on my bed.

Years later, my mother told me she could see me through the trees eating the bologna sandwich. She also shared that my “on the run” operation lasted a total of 15 minutes.


Comments

8 responses to “1979: a bologna sandwich and resentment (on the run)”

  1. Traci Habbinga Avatar
    Traci Habbinga

    Love this story so much! I can also identify with it, almost in step. In 1975, I ran away from home at age 9 (POINT 5), and probably for the very same reasons. lol I packed my fave pjs , the current Holly Hobby book I was reading, and a piece of paper with our address, written by my mom- for “when the police arrested” me. (ha!). I put all of that in my off-brand Barbie beauty shop that closed & latched. I remember walking long enough to start thinking about lunch (you were eons ahead of me in food prep), and my stomach growled when I thought of the food, which I thought was funny. The funny turned to worry some 5 blocks later as I sat down on the curb, crying and feeling all alone. (FIVE BLOCKS). My daddy pulled up in our 1970s green woody station wagon & asked why I was crying. I said “Because you and Mama made me run away!” He got out, picked me & the beauty shop up and we headed home. Mama had lunch fixed-a single slice of bologna sandwich and 7 fritos. I know because I counted them dozens of times before I was brave enough to apologize. Once I apologized, Daddy scooped us all an ice cream cone and all was forgiven.

    1. I love all the details you remember! Isn’t it funny how some things stick with us so strongly? Seven Fritos. Perfect.

  2. Laura Dragon Avatar
    Laura Dragon

    Yeah, I ran away when I was 8 years old. I got to the end of the street and then didn’t know what to do as I was allowed to cross the big Main Street by myself. I waited there quite awhile for an adult, any adult, to walk me across the road. Nobody walked by so eventually it was dinner time and I just walked myself home in time for dinner. Turns out that the neighbor at the end of the street had called my house and let my dad know that I was just sitting there at the intersection waiting for help to cross the road. Dad knew I wouldn’t cross alone so he wasn’t too worried and knew I would come back home. Interesting way to spend the afternoon though.

    1. I love that you waited for someone to walk you across the road. Even us rebels were rule followers sometimes. 🙂

  3. Susan Andress Avatar
    Susan Andress

    In 1963, when I was 5, my best friend, Laura (also 5) and I decided to run away and live in the playhouse in my backyard. We had plans to sneak inside my parents’ house at night to steal food, dishes, and whatever else we needed, and to use the bathroom.

    We started by pooling our resources, and headed with the phenomenal sum of 35 cents to the Pixy Pak (a precursor of 7-11), half a mile and across Century Ave from our Woodbury homes. We made it there and bought quite a bit of candy (a full size Hershey bar was 5 cents), then turned toward home.

    We’d almost made it out of the parking lot when my dad, driving his station wagon, found us.

    When we pulled into the driveway, Laura’s mom pulled her out of the car before it came to a stop and started spanking her with great enthusiasm. Knowing that it was only a matter of time until I got mine, I ran into the house, flung myself onto the bed, and started crying as only a small child can. Little did I know that my parents had a more sinister fate in store for me.

    After completely ignoring and neglecting me for almost an eternity (about 5 minutes), my mom came into my room, sat on my bed, and gently rubbed my back as she told me how much she and my father loved me, how frightened they’d been when they’d realized I was gone, and how very, very sad they would have been if they hadn’t been able to find me. No amount of spanking could have made me feel as terrible.

    I never tried to run away again.

    1. I love that you would “run away” to your backyard. So cute and such a five-year-old thing to do. It sounds like your parents handled it perfectly. 🙂

  4. Carole Prior Avatar
    Carole Prior

    Ahhh. The need for freedom—- within us all— that basic cry to be heard/seen /valued runs rampart in your determination to seek /— you aced the moment! Your details “ slamming the screen door…”. “ …slid on a carpet of needles…” vividly recreates moments which were so unique—so significant that they have stayed within your mind I loved reading your memory and ohh yes— can identify— link memories and images. How are doing with your “ lake Effect Snow”? I’ve thought about you as I see the reports hope to see you when you fly down South again!🎶💖🎶

    1. I hope to see you, too! I love the photos of your busy, colorful life! XO

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