A LETTER TO GOV. GILMORE

9/28/00

Dear Gov:

I am writing you today with only one request from a loyal subject of yours. Sir, it has come to my attention that the Tower Mall Revitalization Project -- which was supposed to attract merchants back to its spacious corridors -- has been suspended indefinitely. As former ten-year residents of Portsmouth, this stoppage has caused periods of sad recollection for my entire family.

Michael, my younger brother in the pecking order, tearfully recalled his visit with Santa Claus as a booger-encrusted child of six years. While parked on Mr. Kringle's well-cushioned lap, Michael violently tugged on Santa's artificial-beard strings and told him that his breath was very bad. Maybe that's why he did not find one of those Captain America wind-up motorcycles under the Christmas tree that year. (1980)

Speaking of motorcycles, my cousin Chris called to owe me a long-overdue apology for smashing my Bradlee's-purchased Tomy Digital Daredevil game against a wall in 1982. As a consolation make-up gift, he gave me a choice of either the complete Samhain catalog dubbed on third-generation, drugstore-style blank tapes minus cases or coupons from his favorite restaurant. (The Family Fish House -- "Buy One Complete Catfish Dinner, Get The Second Free") Opting for the less smellier of two evils, I selected the 2-for-1 meal deal, even though "fake seafood" (fish sticks, hush puppies, and popcorn shrimp) was the only type I enjoyed. As luck would have it, not only were the coupons expired, but the Fish House was also. Last I heard about Chris was that he managed a 7-Eleven on Lynnhaven Parkway, but this turned out to be a rumor started by my grandfather. (nicest man in the world -- bless him!) Ain't a crime to brag falsely about your grandchildren; I'm sure you've done the same thing.

My two sisters, Shannon and Shawn, also have longed for a Bradlee's re-opening. Despite being grown women with flesh-and-blood children of their own, the siblings' doll fixation has not changed one iota. Just the other morning, Shannon (feeding her little one mini-pancakes) gently sang the lyrics from the commercial of the once-popular toy items: "Strawberry Shortcake/Huckleberry Pie/Blueberry Muffin/Raspberry Tart." Or something along those lines. Could've been just a respite on Shannon's part from that purple creature's theme ("I love you/You love me...") she has to contend with each time the should-be-extinct thing is squeezed. Then again, why did she choose to quote "Strawberry Shortcake (Theme From)" and not "Strawberry Fields Forever" if the dolls hadn't been on her mind? When Shawn was over here last Saturday, she took hold of the remaining parts from her old Cabbage Patch Kid. The head, one arm, half a leg, and the detached body each received a "I missed you" sectional hug. Though Shawn had assisted with animal surgeries so precise that a Harvard Med grad would've taken notes, she and all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put the Cabbage Patch Kid back together again. Shawn had tried to graft the loose appendages onto a "Tickle Me Elmo," but was too frightened to continue, when the Sesame Street character changed its tag-line from "Ha Ha! That tickles!" to "Ouch! That fucking hurts!"

Mom, whose passion for cooking fried chicken is legendary 'round these parts, has often said that Morrison's Cafeteria served the only chicken she would eat besides her own. I, for one, know that claim to be untrue. Since the cafeteria's closing, Mom has gobbled lotsa pieces of floured 'n' fried fowl at Pollard's (barf!), Food Lion (double barf!), and Breez-In ("Virginia's Finest" -- triple barf!). Still, Mom would love to sink her teeth into Morrison's breast or leg (I'm not being kinky) like she did in many visits past. (Mom also enjoyed their mighty fine mashed potatoes.)

The Chuck E. Cheese's test was administered in 1984 by Mom and taken by her then-boyfriend. It consisted of two sections: 1)How many pizzas would he buy? and 2)How many tokens would he give us for video games? Ken (his name) scored a perfect 1600 on the CEC-SAT, and Mom would end up marrying the guy.

Brian, who is 19 months younger than I, fondly remembered winning an art contest sponsored by K & K Toys. His prize was a deluxe box of finger paints that would soon decorate the walls of our Academy Park home. Seven years later (1985), Brian hooked up with a Mexican cutie named Beth Sanchez, who happened to work (How/Why did she have a job at such an early age?) at the toy store that had awarded the art supplies to my brother. Miss Sanchez was in my eighth-grade P.E. class during the courtship. She really didn't talk to me that much, aside from asking twenty questions about Brian on a daily basis. My chances with a girl like Beth were few and far between, due to (in no small part) a contradictory fashion-sense. Back then, I was caught in a transitional rut of pretending to be a break dancer and wanting to be a surfer/skater. My normal dress pattern during those not-so-vainglorious days was a pair of Fruit Roll Up-looking parachute pants, an Ocean Pacific T-shirt, black suede Pumas with red stripes/fat laces, and a beige Gotcha pullover. (All from Hess'/Rice's Nachman's) Hey, I may've been a goofy-looking S.O.B., but at least I never wore "Thriller pants." You know, those red abominations with ten million zippers. Given the choice, Gov, what would you rather be -- a rotten piece of dried fruit or Michael Jackson? Due to a laundry accident (Thanks, Mom -- 14 years later), both the pants and Pumas were ruined. As for my remaining funky fresh/rad dude gear, it was trashed in favor of more upscale apparel. (Bugle Boy, Pier Connection, Sperry Top Sider, etc.) This switch didn't exactly win points with Pauline Richardson -- my 9th grade crush. Guess a mouthful of metal and rubber bands made for an unappealing smile. She would later become the wife of a tugboat captain. Wonder where he'd bought his clothes...

Anyway, would you make sure that Lionel Playworld, Bradlee's, Morrison's Cafeteria, Chuck E. Cheese's, K & K Toys, and Hess'/Rice's Nachman's come back to Tower Mall? If so, you will forever lose your title as "most nondescript Governor since Gerald Baliles."

By the way, are you related to no-name country singer Jimmie Dale Gilmore?

Yours truly,
Gunther 8544
Age 28
Virginia Beach, VA