Every summer and perhaps every Spring Break and Fall Break, my mother would send me off to my Grandmother’s in Alamogordo New Mexico. I never minded. It was always a good thing, except for one summer where I missed the last 10 episodes of Robotech in the early summer days of 1985. I usually anticipated the trip. Simply, it was a time to get my comic books (that my grandmother would buy and save for me) and it meant ice cream before bedtime (which was always a special treat at Grandma’s and no where else.)
With my mother working her butt off and never having any real time off, except two-paid-weeks-during-July, I usually went to Alamogordo on my own. The journey would always begin with my mother dropping me off at the Greyhound Bus Station on Main St. in Roswell. She would buy me a round trip ticket, she would watch me board the bus, watch the bus pull out and wave as it drove down the street. I remember doing this as early as 1982 , maybe 1981. I remember the first time I rode the bus alone to Alamogordo was a bit scary. My mother told the bus driver that I was only 9 years old and if he could keep an eye on me. I remember being embarrassed. The bus driver didn’t give a shit about watching some snot nosed brat for the next two hours. He just wanted to get the bus to its next destination and not play Romper Room Babysitter. I was also instructed, by my mother, I could not sit anywhere but the seat behind the driver or directly across from the driver. I did as I was told and not before too long, I was a hardened veteran and bus rides to Alamogordo were nothing.
The 117 miles to Alamogordo would fly by. I would read my comics, stare out the window and daydream or play my Milton Bradley Microvision game system (think Gameboy but much earlier). Sometimes, I would get off the bus at the pit-stop in Ruidoso and get a soda, even when I was told by my mother not to get off the bus for any reason unless it was on fire. And my Grandmother was always waiting for me when the bus arrived in Alamo. Yet, I do have a vague memory of the bus getting there and not finding her anywhere for almost 10 minutes. It was the scariest 10 minutes a 9-year-old could or would possibly go through. It was just a mild panic attack surrounded by fears of abandonment. Not to mention, it wasn’t like I could just whip out my iPhone and call or text her. I actually had to find a “payphone” and the handsets were always booger nasty. Plus, I used all my quarters on the soda in Ruidoso! Yet, as I started to panic, I turned and there she was. Her explanation was the bus drove too fast and was early. I forgave her. It never happened again, I’m positive.
When I got to Alamogordo, I would ask if we could stop at the Yucca Newsstand. I always wanted it to be my first stop. I wanted to look at the comics. I would buy issues of stuff I normally didn’t ask Grandmother to buy. I loved Yucca Newsstand. It smelled of musty paperback books and tobacco. The floorboards would creak and squeak. Not only the best place for comics that I knew of in 1982, it sold a variety of cigar and pipe tobacco along with coins. It was in Yucca Newsstand that I learned to love the smell of newsprint! I wish I would have been able to visit the store one last time before it closed. It will be missed.
Then, the next stop would usually be Gibson’s. Again, I wanted to look at the Star Wars figures. Oh, how I remember the Star Wars figures at Gibson’s…
more to come!
