Storytelling Sunday: The Helms Bread Man

Before sharing my story for Sian's Storytelling Sunday (discussed here), a few words about the design inspiration for my art journal page (you can click on it to enlarge it and see the details).  The yellow and grey color scheme was inspired by U.S. First Lady Michelle Obama's Easter dress, discussed in this blog post.  And the houses were inspired by Dina Wakley's post here.  The journaling reads "A man walked into their village and they could never guess the secrets he held."  Now, on to the story.
I've written before about the neighborhood in which I grew up. . . a group of houses built in early 1960's Southern California to hold the families of World War II veterans employed in the aerospace and related industries.  House after house filled with kids, ranging in ages from newborns to 21-year olds.  During the summer, we all hung out together. . . listening to music, going to the beach, playing football and baseball during the day and hide-and-go-seek after dark.  
Often the highlight of our summer days was the appearance of the Helms bread man.  A surly man in a hurry, he drove a truck through the neighborhood selling fresh bread, eggs and milk to the households. Families could run a monthly tab and count on him to deliver life's basic necessities. This picture is from a great page about The Helms Bakery and the Helmsman, though our bread man was not as kind as the one described in the article. 

The Helmsman had donuts and candy.  When we had spare change, we would stop him and survey his goods. He hated that.  He would scowl and rush us to make a decision, growling that he was running late.  One summer, one of our neighbors got a ping pong table and we spent hours playing our new game.  I remember one afternoon that summer when we heard the Helms Man going by, and we ran outside, ping pong paddles in hand to buy candy.  The Bread Man noticed our paddles and stopped in his tracks. He asked if we had a ping pong table, and when we said yes. He said, "Let me show you something."  With a bit of trepidation, we led him to the garage where he barked at us to go to the other side of the table. 
And then he performed magic with the paddle and ball.  He could make the ball spin and dance.  Apparently, he had been a world class ping pong player in his earlier days and never lost a taste for the sport. He was unstoppable as a ping pong player.  He rolled up his sleeves and he played for what seemed like hours, a smile which we had never before witnessed, gracing his face. We were dumb founded.  And the next day, he was back to his surly self.  I think he did stop and play once or twice more that summer, and it was always a shock to see the complete transformation he underwent when he came out from behind the truck and stood behind the net with a paddle in hand.
I recalled this story because DS Henry has a birthday on Monday and this year he asked for a ping pong table.  I can't wait to show him what I learned from the Bread Man.