I was in Grandpa and Grandma's old grocery store in my hometown.  It was exactly like it used to be-except that the proprietor was Governor George C. Wallace.  I was buying some soft drinks, in all sizes and shapes of bottles and jars, taking them off a shelf against the front wall of the store where the pop box used to be and putting them in an empty case.  It was taking me much longer than I wanted it to, and I was very frustrated with the different sizes and shapes.  At one point, when Gov. Wallace was waiting on another customer at the counter, he called out to me, "Hey friend." or "Hey you over there" or something like that, and I thought, "He's forgotten my name again." and wondered if I should suggest that he get a PR man to help him remember names; it seems that I had observed before that he was bad about that.  When I answered him, he asked me if I had ever played "Molda."  The name sounded familiar to me, and I asked him how it was played.  He recited a little two- or four-line poem that was part of the rules.  I liked the guy in spite of myself and wondered if I should engage him in some kind of debate on the subjects on which we differed.  The only other conversation I remember, though, was my congratulating him on his recent marriage.  He acknowledged the congratulations, but for some reason didn't seem overly enthusiastic or happy, and I surmised that he must be still mourning Lurleen.