SUMMARY FOR NEW READERS:

The first nine chapters of my autobiography detail events that I experienced living in Hermitage Hall, an orphanage with a stellar reputation, but a much less desirable environment behind the scenes. They say what you can't see won't hurt you. Want to bet?

LAST TIME:

After my unauthorized departure from Hermitage Hall, I received a severe lashing from Superintendent Gail McClellon's vaunted razor strap. My desire to forever leave Hermitage Hall was only more heightened by this event.

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Four agonizing days after I received my savage rebuke from Big Bertha, I escaped Hermitage Hall for the second time. Although I connived every way imaginable to place my hands on my hated enemy, I deeply resented the fact I could not abscond with that wicked thing. It would have magically disappeared. However, the castigator was never left unattended.

The Nashville morning was overcast. There were grey skies as far as I could see. It would probably rain. I did not care. My target was the packed parking lot of the world's largest retail box store that sat at 5824 Nolensville Pike. Everybody's been to one, probably more times than you'd honestly care to admit. Allow me to ask you this one question if I may that only contains three little letters: why?

I mean, all in all they are the same. A giant nightmare with wall-to-wall overzealous shoppers pushing and shoving their way around the inside.

"That's mine!" "Get out of my way!" You've all heard these comments and more while there no doubt.

The outside of Wally World's no better. Don't you just hate it when unattended carts litter the parking lot, bang into, scratch, and ding your vehicle after you leave your car? As I strolled through the parking lot that morning it wasn't hard to spot several of these occurrences.

In spite of this, you fancy obtaining wonderful deals on all kinds of merchandise inside the store. If Wal-Mart is so amazingly incredible, why do you wind up paying the very same prices for most items you can purchase somewhere else? Yes, my opinion of Wal-Mart was not real positive back in the day as you can easily detect. (Confidentially, all these years later it remains the same.)

Need an optometrist? Go to Wal-Mart. Enjoy Nathan's hotdogs? Go to Wal-Mart. Perhaps a Miracle Ear hearing aid is in order, or you desire to file taxes? Once again, you got it, go to Wal-Mart. All these concessions, and many others, conduct business inside any Wal-Mart you care to enter.

They were all found in this particular Wal-Mart. I noticed them on previous Hermitage Hall-sponsored outings. Oh, and don't forget to complete all your banking needs, as well as obtain your pharmaceuticals, while you are there too. When you stop and dwell on the reality of the microcosm that is Wal-Mart, it's actually mind blowing. And, here is a newsflash for you. All this can be accomplished prior to interacting with the Wal-Mart proper.

To me, that morning, Wal-Mart meant lots of people with cashola! I knew by turning on my little boy charms, I would obtain the green from someone. The victim really did not matter. After all, who can say no to sad puppy dog eyes, and a polite manner, even if the persona is faked?

I observed several people milling about in the parking lot as they placed their store-bought wares into their vehicles. There was a mother with two young twin terrors still riding in the cart as she rapidly walked to her Chevrolet Suburban. There was an old lady, and, I do mean old. She must have been pushing eighty for all she was worth. She carried one tiny little plastic bag. I considered her, for a fleeting moment, before deciding I could do better with someone else.

That's when I spotted my target. He had a cart full of groceries. That was a real good sign. He also owned a powder-blue F150 pickup truck. To my way of thinking, that was even better. As I slowly approached him, I pondered what I was going to say to this gentleman with the humongous beard that hung down to the middle of his chest. I also noticed he had Christian Dior shades on top of his shoulder-length jet black hair.

Somehow, "Good morning, sir," did not appeal to my thought processes in this case.

He glanced up and watched me stroll merrily along behind the gold Fiat two parking spaces down from where he was parked. I could only imagine what he thought.

"Nice ride," I gave my best shot as I stopped, stood beside the tailgate of his truck, and leaned my elbow on it.

"It'll do," was all this man of few words matter-of-factly said as he placed two more bags in the bed of the vehicle.

"Bet it rides smoothhhhhhh," I operated, deliberately drawing the last word out for emphasis.

"You're playing me, kid. What do you want?" he asked cutting to the chase.

So, the gig was up. I decided I might as well blurt right out what was on my mind.

"Spare a couple bucks?" I casually requested.

He looked at me but did not utter a word.

"Hey, a boy's gotta eat you know," I remarked feeling like I'd lost the game.

"Go hustle from somebody else, Squirt," he told me as he tossed a 50-pound bag of Purina dog food into the truck, "I won't give you one red cent!" Then, he paused and asked me, "By the way, where's your folks? Do they know you're out here panhandling from strangers, young man?"

Ashamed, I turned my face away without saying a word. That wasn't my nature.

"What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" I wondered to myself, then told me, "Get your act together, you don't even know this man." Still, a vibe stirred somewhere deep inside me. I had no clue what it was, but, it sure wasn't indigestion.

He must have noticed the abashed expression on my face when I turned away. His tone of voice changed when he said to me, "Listen, if you're hungry, I'll take you over to McDonald's and buy you lunch. But, that's all you're gonna weasel out of me. After that, we go separate ways."

To use his own word that day, neither one of us realized it at the time but I'd continue to "weasel" what I wanted out of him for about the next ten years or so. Some things much easier than others. Teasingly, as time went along, and I wanted some insignificant trinket or another from him, he would call me "Weaseler'.

My bigger needs required more effort on my part. However, looking back over the years, I can honestly say I got a lot of what I wanted from him and more than I ever imagined. I never expected this chance encounter to have the profound effect, or forever change the course of my life, the way that it did. Although I did not know it at that moment, I had just met my Dad.

Fishing a ring of keys out of his Levis he smiled and told me, "Get in already. I'm not walking."

I waited for him to unlock the pickup then climbed up into the cab of the truck.

That was the extent of our conversation at Wal-Mart. Most of our talking was done while munching Mickey D's.

(To Be Continued)