Grandpa's Dresser Drawer

I was a child of two maybe three years of age, a most inquisative and innocent young lad, so to speak. Still, I can promise you this, whatever I did that day I pray never ever to do again.


Grandpa and Nana Mamie Spaight lived on the shady side of Seventh street less than a stone's throw from Prospect park. They made their home on the third floor of a limestone-faced building that stood adjacent to Saint Saviour's Parochial grammar school in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn. The size of the couple's apartment was stately by anyone's means, but to a young child's eyes it appeared to be humongous.


Seven lofty rooms were more than enough space for me to roam.  Let's see, after entering through the black oak doorway to the apartment, a hallway greeted me which led in two directions. If I chose to go right, I'd pass the double sliding doors to the master bedroom which in turn opened into a  massive living room that overlooked the street below.  However, if I decided to turn left at that same hallway at the door, I was in for a tour.  That hallway connected two more bedrooms, and a  bath to a lavish dining area. On the far side of the large linen-draped banquet table, a single swinging door opened into an eat-in kitchen strewn with cabinets and drawers and irish porcelin dishware.  A dumbwaiter for easy removal of garbage was nestled in a corner right next to one last room--  another bedroom that was once reserved for use by servants of many years past.


On one of my visits with my parents to see grandpa and Nana Mamie I charted a more challenging course in the apartment.  After making my presence known in all of the more frequented rooms of the place I decided to take Gene Roddenberry's unspoken as yet advice, that is "to boldly go where no man has gone before. . ." -- Grandpa's and Nana Mamie's bedroom.


First, Uncle Eddie had captured my attention  with an explanation of why my Aunt Catherine, who lived with them, collected so many religious                             statues. I think he said "Aunt Catherine was deprived of toys as a child.  She is using these little fellas" he pointed to a statue of Saint Joseph, "she uses these fellas to re-enact the battle of bunker hill"  I rolled my eyes and thought "Gimme a break, Uncle Ed.  I may be two years old, but I'm not fallin' for that one." I turned to leave.
As if he had heard my thoughts, Uncle Eddie threw his hands in the air and sighed, "Geez. . .they can't all be gems, lil' buddy."


I walked down the hall toward the front door and looked at the picture my Aunt Paula drew of the neighborhood gas tanks and knew I was getting closer to my goal.  Yup, there it was.  Two big sliding doors that opened to grandpa's bedroom. Pretty soon I faced a weighty  problem, the sliding doors were open barely a crack.


Like the story goes. . ."I huffed and I puffed" and I slowly made enough space  for little ol' me to enter this chamber of secrets.   Everything was neat and adult looking,  no toys or freshly wrapped presents.   "Wait a second," I walked to grandpa's dresser. "What's this?"  I climbed on the bed so I could close the top dresser drawer that was open.  Looking inside, my sight fell upon an open aquamarine pocket-sized box with my favorite candy inside. 


All the adults were in the dining room either talking or looking at family photos til they turned to see me smiling and holding grandpa's box of chocolates. 
"Oh, lord!" exclaimed Nana Mamie.
My parents rushed to me and grabbed the box out of my hand then chided "where did you get this????"
I was beginning to feel I had done something wrong, so rather than explaining my point of view, I did what any two year old does in a similar situation, I began to sob.  But sobbing was not enough this time, I wailed louder and louder and even louder than that"
When I began to catch my breathe I answered my parents in, what I call "baby-cry-talk"
It went something like this," I. . .I (crying noise) Uncle Eh-huh. . .Eh-huh. . .Eh-huh (more crying noise) no toys. Op-en, op-en, op-en (louder crying noise) Sor-huh-Sor-huh, I'm sorr-y"
Uncle Eddie was making funny faces at me to help settle me down and at the same time began to giggle.  Grandpa put two and two together and turned to his son and vehemently admonished, "This time Eddie, you've gone too far.  You know the lad loves his chocolate, so why did you have to show him where my "special" chocolate was??"
Eddie raised his hands "Hold on, Dad. . .I had nothin' to do with this"
Nana Mamie calmed everybody down by saying "There's no need to worry, now.  If ever you've read the label on the back of that box you would know little Jimmy here will be just fine. . .sure, he'll have a wee bit of a tummy ache.  But I guess it will teach him a lesson that he must stay away from his grandpa's Ex-Lax"


Needless to say my car ride home was how should I phrase it, a moving experience.