"Sam's Gift" Submission #5

Madrid, Iowa - Early 1970

It must have been early 1970. Winter. I woke up on a Saturday morning and was greeted with blanket of fresh snow on the ground. Before I could even choke down a bowl of cereal or watch a "carntoon," Sam was beating on my front door.

He looked like a little mixed and matched Eskimo... lots of layers of clothing in various sizes and colors. Snow boots, many sizes too big for him. It appeared he was posing as the male half of the famous American Gothic painting but instead of a pitchfork, he was holding a snow shovel.

He suggested that we could make some money if we knocked on the doors of our neighbors and asked if we could shovel their sidewalks and driveways for cash. Now this was an odd concept for a California boy but I was certainly game if it meant monetary gain which Sam assured me it did.

Sam was right.

Before noon, we had combined for a $20 jackpot...
ten bucks each!

Should I tuck it away in my piggy bank and save it? Not on your life! We were headed downtown to the Dime Store on 2nd Avenue. Candy galore!

I was a kid on a mission as I methodically ran my eyes across the racks of candy. Ten dollars worth of candy in 1970 was almost equivalent to a pillow case of treats on Halloween. I was so focused on the task at hand that it wasn't until I loaded the counter with my choices, that I noticed Sam hadn't picked up a thing.

With great curiosity, I asked him, "Aren't you going to buy anything?"

"Yes." He replied. "But not here."

Knowing the handful of retail establishments in Madrid, I could not imagine where he wanted to spend his hard earned money but I was about to find out.

Lucas Hardware was a few blocks east of the Dime Store. I had never darkened its doors. I mean...

why would I? I had just turned 11 and there was little reason that a kid my age would have any need for tools or nails or whatever else they sold in that place.

Sam knew exactly what he wanted. He told me that he wanted to buy something for his dad. He almost seemed embarrassed by the admission but my thought was, "At least you have a dad."

He scanned the contents of a well lit, glass enclosed case of pocket knives and settled on a nice, pearl handled one. This single purchase consumed just about every cent of his ten dollars. Sam was proud of  his choice.

He had resisted the selfish lure of buying enough candy to put himself into a sugar induced coma in favor of blowing his entire earnings on a gift for his father. I thought that was dumb and cool at the same time.

Sam was so excited, he ran all the way home as I attempted to keep up with him, while placing a stranglehold on my bag of candy. Out of breath... we reached his house.

Sam motioned for me to follow him as he slowly opened the front door to his house. Coming from the bright, white snow, illuminated by an afternoon sun, into the dark living room of the Smiley home was quite an adjustment for the eyes.

As usual, there were only two things that lent any light to the dungeon-like living room... the flickering screen of a small television and the subtle glow of Mr. Smiley's cigarette.

We stood just inside the door, eyes slowly adjusting. We were not greeted by Sam's dad. We weren't acknowledged in any way. Not even a glance in our direction.

Uncomfortable and intimidated...VERY intimidated. I wanted to bolt.

"C'mon Sam!" I thought. "Give him the knife and let's get out of here!"

Sam slowly and cautiously approached his dad as if he were approaching a rattlesnake. Mr. Smiley kept his eyes glued to the television.

"I bought you something, dad." Sam said as he handed him the box.

Mr. Smiley appeared annoyed as he took the box and opened it. He took the knife out of the box and stared at it for a few second before putting it back in the box.

He looked at Sam as he tossed the box onto the coffee table and said, "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

If Sam had an answer to his dad's question, he thought it best to keep his thoughts private.

Mr. Smiley's gaze returned to the TV as he took a long hit on his cigarette. Once again, Sam and I felt invisible and insignificant.

After what felt like an eternity, Sam reached down, picked up the knife and headed out the front door. I was right on his heels.

In my mind, I was weighing the hypothetical options of having a dad like that or having no dad at all. At that exact point in time, I thought my circumstances were better than Sam's.

As we left his house in the vast brightness of the day, I looked at Sam and before I could say a word, he forced a smile and said, "Good. I wanted to keep the knife for myself anyway." We both knew that was lie but I understood perfectly and smiled back at him and said, "I know."

Was it an isolated event? Maybe. Am I being too harsh right now with a memory from 44 years ago? Possibly.

All I know is that this episode has stuck with me for my entire life. As an 11-year-old, I couldn't totally process what had just happened. I just knew that it didn't feel right. I was scared and uneasy and I felt deep sympathy for my friend.

I often wondered whatever happened to Sam. It wasn't until years later that I found out...