The day of the fossil in San Luis Obispo

November 24, 2024

By DELL FRANKLIN

Editor’s Note: The following series, “Life in Radically Gentrifying Cayucos by the Sea,” to be posted biweekly includes the notes, thoughts, and opinions of an original American voice: author Dell Franklin. 

Franklin’s memoir, “The ballplayer’s Son” is currently on Amazon.

I was on my monthly visit into San Luis Obispo to hit Trader Joe’s and stock up on vitals and later Big 5 for tennis balls. It was around ten o’clock on a weekday, and while about halfway through my usual route in the busy Trader Joe’s, I paused, halted my cart, really looked around for possibly the first time ever, and felt as if I was walking around in the house of the living dead.

I said to myself, “Man, I thought I was old at 81, but look at some of these decrepit fossils of modern human existence!”

They were clogging the aisles, unintentionally of course. All with carts. Some simply stared at what sat upon shelves before them as if figuring out why exactly they were there and what exactly they were looking for. I know the feeling. I know it very well. Yet, at the same time, I am still moving with relative speed for my age, thankfully.

One old wizened man pushing a cart looked as if he’d shrunk into something so small it was a miracle he could even push a cart and see where he was going because he looked like a scrofulous 12-year-old behind it. But he was moving. He wore glasses. A ball cap seemed to encompass his entire face.

He had a list he peered at. So do I. Never do I shop these days without a list unless I’m looking for an item I forgot or need badly—like a lemon or an onion.

Almost all these old buzzards, male and female, (none of whom were fat!) were unaccompanied. One old woman was with a younger woman over by the bakery products. She was smiling as she poked around, and I nodded and told her to slow down, and she laughed, and as did her probable granddaughter.

Another stern-looking old guy, tall and erect like an ex-Army colonel, was in the aisle where I buy my power bars. He was with what appeared to be the wife. He was in the middle of the aisle staring into emptiness. I halted. I go pretty fast because I’m not happy in any kind of market. A yard or two down the same aisle, two ancient humans in masks stood pondering products.

It was a definite traffic jam. I thought I might say something to the fossil occupying the space I needed to navigate through, but I’m sure he couldn’t hear, though he did have one of those big hearing aids shoved up under an ear.

I moved closer, very slowly, to perhaps a yard away, and he finally acknowledged me and, a faraway expression still on his face, he moved up a couple feet and I shoved my cart through and nabbed a small box of power bars and wound around the two masked hindrances and was soon around the corner headed for the olive oil!

This is part of my route in Trader Joe’s. If I am distracted from my route I’ll forget crucial supplies. One time, when I was looking for Parmesan, I had to ask where it was from a friendly employee who was so nice and attentive that she walked me to the Parmesan and I skipped past my jumbo brown eggs and was pissed off for a month. So I am careful about my route and I suppose resent being knocked off it.

Later, after securing olive oil, and observing the fossils pushing their full carts up to checkers, I spotted a young shapely girl in short shorts burst through the front door and move as quickly and nimbly as a track star, circumventing the fossils like an NFL running back, and I wanted to hurry my cart across the place and get a good look at her legs and ass, being an old lecher, but at the same time I wanted to go to a checker and get the hell out.

I also realized I’d never catch up with the young beauty anyway; though I could abandon my cart like many fossils do and slither across the place and try and see if I could get at least one last look at those legs,

But no, no, I pretty much had what I wanted and checked my list and realized that with all the congestion and distraction I forgot to get some oregano and thyme, and asked an employee where they were. She gave me specific directions, possibly realizing that 90% of the people shopping on this day at this hour were between 80 and 100 years old and had no fucking idea where they were going or what they were doing but were somehow pushing through and still actually existing and setting records of longevity, and possibly destroying social security, and eventually the economy and God knows what else.

At Big 5 it was a different story. I was the only old guy. Driving home to Cayucos, I put my Beach Boys CD of greatest hits in the deck of my ancient compact and played it full blast.