Gay Street and Orange Julius

Not long ago, Amy and I took our first visit to the new open market on Lovell Road. Most of what I saw in booths amounted to what I call elegant junk. That was fine with me because I like nothing better than rummaging through stuff like that in hopes of finding some good deals on things not needed. Outside several vendors offered fruits, vegetables, and flowers, and one vendor sold frozen meats that he’d grown on his farm in middle Tennessee.

The best thing I discovered was in the food court. Orange Julius was being sold in one area, and I had to have one. The wait in line was longer than other places, but that’s what happens when something truly good is being prepared. And yes, the price was steep for the size of the drink. Still, on this occasion, I paid it without blinking an eye. The first slurp from the cup brought back plenty of memories from times gone by.

Trips to downtown Knoxville were big deals “back in the day.” Daddy drove Mother and us three boys to Westhaven, where we caught the bus for the last few miles. We exited in front of Woolworths on Gay Street, and that was the start line for a day of shopping.

Mother bought our clothes in a Penney’s or Sears downtown. We’d travel to Millers so that she could shop for material located in a department on an upper floor. Rich’s was the next stop, and when that store became Millers as well, we made trips to both places.

The entire time we crisscrossed Gay Street, with stops on Market Square for good measure, the three of us boys held out our hopes. Sometimes we dreamed of going to the movie while Mother shopped. That didn’t happen much because a tight budget held no money for such foolishness.

More often, we dutifully followed her in and out of stores without complaining too much. Our plan was to be so good that Momma would buy us something to eat. She was much wiser than we gave her credit for being; she knew the way to our good behavior was through our too big bellies.
Food always was a part of our trips. We would scoot into the Blue Circle on Wall Avenue and slide onto the stools at the counter. When we finished, all that remained were napkins, bits of fallen onions, and smears of ketchup.
Sometimes we’d wait for seats at Woolworth’s. The smell of the hamburgers cooking had us slobbering like Pavlov’s dogs, and when the food arrived, it disappeared in only a couple of minutes.

An extravagance was eating at S and W. It was a more formal than what were used to. The cafeteria line offered tempting dishes, but all of us ordered the same thing every time—fish. A black waiter in a white jacket would tote our trays to a table and then place the dishes in our places. While we gobbled fish covered with the best ever tartar sauce, mashed potatoes, and green beans, Mother rested. I don’t remember whether or not she ate, but it would have been like her to do without so we could enjoy ourselves.

We’d trek to the far end of Gay Street sometimes. Our clan passed homeless men and some con men selling pencils one time and another item the next, we hiked until reaching a small shop. There it was—the Orange Julius. Orders placed and cups in hand, our family hiked back down Gay Street for the last time of the day. Sometimes one of us would drink too fast and stop dead still on the sidewalk and grab his temples. “Brain freeze! Then we’d continue the walk to the bus stop.

The other day I drank that Orange Julius too fast and suffered for it as I had years ago. The memories of a time long passed were darkened with the realization that three of our five family members are gone. However, the time we spent together during the simplest of activities made huge impression on my life. Maybe the best thing I can do is to go back and drink another one for each of them.