In middle school, I met a boy named Scott Jackson. He said, "Oh I remember you from elementary school. You're the girl who wore Sandy's shirts everyday." He wasn't wrong.
We had boxes and boxes of new Sandy's shirts in our garage. They were for employees to wear, but really they were for us and our friends and family. For over 40 years, there was stash of some sort of merch between the two parked cars.
I was eight when the first location opened. Having an endless supply of new colorful t-shirts to choose from every morning was a dream. However, if you ask my mom, she says, "That first year, we were way too busy for laundry. When you needed to get dressed, I'd just say go to the garage and pick a shirt."
If you were a friend who came to sleep over, but forgot a night shirt, you'd probably get a Sandy's shirt. If you wanted to swim, but didn't have a change of clothes, you'd get a Sandy's shirt. Oh wait, is the sun in your eyes? Good news, the new Sandy's visors just arrived.
Our house was so full of shirts, they became commonplace eventually. Recently, I was dusting with my mom and found one of the very first shirts. It is the only one we have with the original logo. It is also the only one with a spot of Old English on it. I freaked out. "MOM WHY IS THIS IS THE RAG BOX? IT IS ANTIQUE! IT'S THE ONLY ONE WE'VE GOT." She was amused, and unbothered. "Not at the time I put it in the box, it wasn't." Don't worry, y'all. I've taken the rest of the "heirlooms" to a safe unknown location.
Dad was generous with the merchandise. Every bit was advertising after all. In 1981, painter's caps were a trend. If you're young and unfamiliar with them, they were sort of papery baseball caps with short bills. I've never seen a painter wear one, by the way. But all of my fifth grade class did. Dad sent me to school with a hundred caps designed with the Sandy's logo. Surely, we got it approved first. I don't know how I worked it into my book report or what reason I gave for showing with a crate of (free advertising) hats, but everyone in that grade at Harbison West Elementary had one by lunch. We tramped around the playground like tiny tradesmen.
I really think my dad liked design as much as any other part of the business. One of main memories of those years is of him sitting at the dining room table laying out ads for The State newspaper. The signage on the stores, the menus, the shirts...he loved all of it. Choosing exactly how the shops would look and flow was all him too. While working with Eckerd Drugs, he learned about displays and ads. He experimented with new ways of buying copious merchandise and stacking it up in near the front of the store to sell it in record time. He was great at it, but more importantly, I think he loved the game of it. A game with a very practical and rewarding payoff.
I try to ask him about when he and my mom met. She worked at Eckerds part-time during Christmas at the cosmetic counter one year. They would go to the donut shop nearby on their breaks to have coffee. Well, my mom had milk and a giant honeybun. Who has milk on a date? Maurice Sanderson. She's got killer bone density. Anyway, I always want to hear about them meeting and falling in love, but we get halfway to the donut shop before my dad starts saying, "That was a really pretty Eckerds. It had a red drop ceiling and we took the letters PHARMACY and put them up in new spot and the format really popped and..." And I only want to hear about mom's outfit, Dad and whether you thought she was cute. "Yeah. Well, yeah. Very. Obviously. Now those ceilings though..."