God and Carpeting
How could I be normal? My parents’ values were God and carpeting.
In the spring of 1975, it was installed. A blinding beige shag. If we weren’t Mormon, it could have been the scene of an amazing neighborhood discotheque. However, God was involved, so it was to be kept pristine. Shoes would never see the inside of that house again until 1992.
Both of my parents had planned carefully for the day the shag arrived. Mom had returned from KMART with a WesselWork Shag Rake. It was a new fangled vacuum that had been specially designed for shag carpet. She was going to do Pop proud by keeping the new field of beige in dinner-party-ready condition. Pop supervised its delivery and installation like a foreman at a construction site, complete with hardhat and cigar. This was despite the fact that it was July and Halloween was months away.
I can remember going out into the living room in the light of early morning the next day. The house was silent – but I knew Pop’s alarm clock would soon bring the entire household to life. I carefully laid myself down upon the beigestrosity and did snow angels.