Buffalo Nickel

Buffalo Nickel

Gary Grissom

I was painfully shy and had very low self-esteem when I was in high school. For example, when I would get up the courage to phone a girl, I would stutter as soon as she would answer and say hello. I would say “Th-th-this is-is-is” and then I would hang up before I would say my name. At least the girl didn’t know who I was, I would rationalize. After doing this several times, I finally confided to my big brother, Lee, and he suggested that I take a deep breath and then try scatting jazz notes while I dialed the girl’s number.

“What’s scatting?” I asked.

“Well, it’s like when Louis Armstrong sings nonsense syllables to his jazz songs instead of actual words. It’s kind of like “Zoo-be-do-dop-ba-da.” Or when Little Richard sang “Womp-bop-a-loo-la” at the beginning of “Tootie Fruiti.” So give it a try Gary. It will help you to relax. And if you screw it up, you might make the girl laugh. Not at you, but with you.

“Oh I don’t know Lee. But I guess if the girl laughs, I might laugh too.”

“Of course Gary.”

Later that night, I decided to try Lee’s suggestion and I actually felt a little less nervous until the girl answered and said “Hello.” But instead of saying “Th-th-this- is-is-is” I sang “Womp-bop-a-doody-doody-fruity-scooty-tootie” and my voice cracked as I sang a very high note. For a long moment there was silence as my heart pounded like a bongo drum. Then the girl said “I don’t know who you are but you sound like a total weirdo. Goodbye!”

“Whew! That sucked….how uncool can I be? At least she didn’t recognize my voice.” I thought aloud.

Fortunately for me, the annual Sadie Hawkins dance was being held in the school gym on March 10th and I received a phone call from a girl named Leslie, asking me if I would like to go with her.

“Uh..yes-yes I would Leslie,” I said in disbelief. “Thanks!”

“Cool. So I’m sure you know that Sadie Hawkins dances are when the girl pays for everything right?”

“Well, I didn’t know that but it sounds good to me.”

“Of course it does. But you can make it up to me when you take me out. Okay?”

“Oh sure. I will be glad to reciprocate.” I said as suavely as I could.

I will pick you up at your house at 6:30 Gary. I’ll make a dinner reservation at Nati’s for 7pm. You live at 1056 Tarento Drive right?

“Yes…that’s my address. Wow! Thanks Leslie. That’s my favorite Mexican restaurant.”

“Mine too. See you on Friday Gary.”

I was overjoyed. I couldn’t believe that a girl, or rather, a hot surfer girl had actually asked me out.

Leslie and I dated for several months until her father, a naval officer, got orders to transfer to Hawaii and she had to move there with her family. I missed her very much.

By this time I had learned to effectively use my brother’s suggestion of scatting whenever I called a girl. Also, due to the confidence Leslie had given me, I gradually no longer needed to scat and felt confident enough to say “Hey, this is Gary Grissom” without stuttering. Saying “Hey” before saying my name helped a lot.

In the last week of my senior year, I had the confidence to approach a beautiful girl named Melissa. She had been going with the quarterback of our football team but they had recently broken up. At first I couldn’t think of anything worth saying, so I simply smiled and said hello and asked if I could borrow a nickel.

“A whole nickel?” she asked with a smile. “I guess I can spare that much.”

Melissa reached into her purse and pulled out a Buffalo nickel and handed it to me.

“Thanks. Hey, do you realize this is a Buffalo nickel?” I asked as I turned it over between my right thumb and index finger. “It’s dated 1935. This might be worth something someday.”

“Yeah sure. But right now in 1963, it’s only worth five cents. You can keep it.”

I thanked her again and as I walked away, I decided I would return the nickel the next time I saw her and I was beginning to think of some topics for conversation. But I didn’t see her again. Therefore, I kept the nickel as a good luck charm.

Thirteen years later, I was driving down HWY 8 for an early morning history class at San Diego State University. As I was driving, for no apparent reason, I recalled borrowing the Buffalo nickel from Melissa all those years ago. In fact, that little seemingly insignificant incident went through my mind a few more times that day. Why? I wondered.

Later that afternoon, after my last class, I walked to my car where I had parked it on a side street instead of the university’s parking lot. I then decided that instead of taking my usual route and driving down Montezuma Rd. to HWY 8, I would take an alternate route and drive down El Cajon Blvd. That really didn’t make any sense because El Cajon Blvd. had stop lights every block or so, and Montezuma Rd. would have taken me straight to HWY 8 and then to my home.

As I turned onto El Cajon Blvd, I saw a woman holding an infant and she had a large cardboard sign leaning against her left leg that read “Ocean Beach.”

Since Ocean Beach was near my home, I stopped and reached over and rolled down my right car window.

“Get in!” I said. “I’ll be driving through Ocean Beach on my way home.”

“Thanks! My kid and I have been standing here for about a half hour.”

The woman got in and held her child on her lap and then fastened her seatbelt around them. She glanced at me and explained that she’d had car trouble in the morning and that was why she was hitchhiking.

“I see. I’m glad that I can help you get home.”

She then looked at me for a long moment before I started driving down the street.

“You look very familiar.” She said. “Did you go to Pt. Loma High School back in the ‘60’s?”

“Yes I did. I was in the class of ’63. How about you?

“I was in the class of ’65. What’s your name?”

“Gary Grissom. What’s yours?”

“Melissa Haber.”

I could feel myself getting goosebumps and my ears were ringing as we stopped at a red light.”

“I owe you a Buffalo nickel.” I said.