WHEN I WAS RICH

When I was young, my parents ran the universe. They were my "higher power."

When I was around six years of age, a friend and I were busy playing when My father decided to present each of us with one of his personal checks, in the amount of one million dollars.I have no recollection about preceding details, but what lingers is the instant rush of exuberance this daughter felt as she hastily assessed her investment options.For a brief hour or so, one little girl made serious decisions, without a trace of doubt as to the validity of her gift, nor her father's ability to extend the in-kind hospitality to her guest.

It became clear, that with such a windfall I could buy the biggest entity in the universe...which just happened to be the Ridgewood Pharmacy; a mainstay to many, including we who rode horses at Meredith College.

There would be no finer glory than to own Ridgewood pharmacy, and all its contents. An infinity of shelves upon shelves brimming with high-fashion toiletries and trinkets spun wildly in my mind. An added bonus would be that I would also own the grill located in the back of the store,where the grill man would never think of beginning his day without a starched white linen apron and a fresh, crisp paper hat (matching-white too, but with a thin red line traversing its top.)

He'd tirelessly crank out lunch counter fare for the world. Red and white-swirled paper straws (that obviously came from the same place where the man got his hats) filled glass dispensers rhythmically positioned in line down the formica counter top, just beside the "face-reflective" metal napkin dispensers, right beside the metal-topped sugar containers, just beside the normally-greasy matching salt and pepper shakers.

Hungry patrons would trade stories of the day, as fine culinary wizardry effortlessly proceeded from the man in the white paper hat, who would often commandeer the conversation to express lunch-counter"isms." His grilled cheese sandwiches were what we usually ordered, and as the man would wield his spatula into what seemed to be a 10 gallon jar of mayonnaise, we would listen to our mothers remark about his spreading that mayonnaise on both outsides of the bread, in contrast to the standard of butter, to grill them.

Quite commonplace then, for the adults to linger and talk too long following any meal "out," we girls would expend our restlessness by wandering about the store, in awestruck marvel at the sheer quantity of things one could buy, if one had the money and a mind to.

It was during one of these post-lunch sessions that as I began my way down the next aisle of inventory, my eyes were instantaneously sparked to settle upon the most exquisite toiletry set in the world, and right there at Ridgewood Pharmacy. Nestled together in a lovely satin-lined box, I'd found perfume and powder from France. Never before had these eyes beheld anything, anywhere so beautiful and classy-and how did they make a perfume bottle of so rich a royal blue color and tiny sparkly silver stars, scattered about?

I fancied myself to be the first shopper in the whole world to spot it, too. I knew what I had to do: Buy it for my mother. Unable to remember how or when the acquisition was made possible, I clearly recall mountainous pride swelling within my young heart as I impatiently watched my mother lovingly remove drug store gift-wrapping to reveal "Evening in Paris" toilet water and bath powder with the lovely blue satin-backed powder-puff!

I was enjoying the notion that my ability to purchase something from Paris would impress my mother, who probably thought up to that point that I only knew how to give her things from America.

My mom being a bit of a quality-detective, did her best to conceal anything less than gratitude. And because she loved me, she actually wore that stuff. I found it at a store, years later, and took a whiff that nearly recalled my earlier lunch. It was common knowledge that cheap people wore cheap perfume, kind of like an invisible quantifier of status. Like beautiful fancy diamond rings that would turn your finger green.

To gallantly bring that stench along, everywhere she was to arrive, and until her next bath...
For my mom, it had to have been love, and love alone.

For me, it had been about the package.

And who would have ever imagined that I would later be so instantly rich enough to buy the whole store? I was sure that one million dollars would cover and seal the deal, exactly.

Long before I had the opportunity to hand over my check to acquire ownership, "the big reveal" occurred: My father, confessing to his biggest fan and her friend that he had presented two girls with two worthless checks, a certain daughter did some quick growing-up.