Shopping with Captain Jack

By CAROLE E. BARROWMAN

Even on a good day in Tosa, grocery shopping is not something I enjoy. I'm the person you see staring aimlessly at the soup shelves while my cart blocks your passage. Three aisles down you spot me again huddling near the detergents hoping no one will notice I'm devouring my deli meat and my cart's still empty.
So when I recently found myself in a Tesco supermarket in Cardiff, Wales, as a personal shopper, you can appreciate the irony and my anguish.
Twenty years ago, my baby brother, John, walked into a theater in London's West End during an open audition for a revival of "Anything Goes," and left with one of the lead roles. Since then he has starred in Andrew Lloyd Webber's biggest musicals, sang Sondheim at The Kennedy Center, played Broadway with Carol Burnett and the West End with Rob Lowe, acted in a number of TV shows, released a variety of CDs, performed in "The Producers" and "De-Lovely," and, most recently, become a star in the British celebrity firmament.
After playing a popular recurring role in BBC television's recent reincarnation of "Dr. Who" (currently on the SciFi channel in the States), John was offered a spinoff focused on his "Dr. Who" character, Captain Jack. "Torchwood" finished its first season in December, breaking a number of ratings records, and making my little brother, according to Broadcast magazine, one of the UK's hottest television stars.
But famous people need to shop.

Along with their caviar and champagne, they also need toilet paper, paper towels, toothpaste, soap, and lots of salt and vinegar potato crisps. So late one night, John and I headed to his local Tesco. He hoped there'd be fewer people shopping at midnight and we'd get in and out more quickly.
On our way down the produce aisle, I spotted a couple of shoppers staring at us. As we ventured deeper into the vegetables, word spread that Captain Jack was in the store. The buzz about his presence started near the carrots and by the time the message reached dairy, there was a palpable current in the air and a crowd at the canned goods.
At first I walked as close to John as possible, basking in the glow of some of the attention, but then it became clear that if we were ever going to escape with our supplies we needed a strategy.
"Take this," John said, handing me the grocery list.
I stared at it as if it was written in my own blood. "You've got to be kidding. What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to wait near the cashiers. There's more space and I can sign autographs while you finish shopping."
"Why can't I wait in line and you shop?"
"Because," he said, without any hint of malice, "no one wants your picture on their cell phone."
Now that may indeed be true, but little brothers, famous or not, do not tell their big sisters what to do. But before I could continue the squabble, I noticed a flustered store manager and a security guard heading our way. Captain Jack and his sister were causing a bottleneck in aisle four.
Birth order is a funny thing. It defines our childhoods in small and big ways, but if we're lucky, we realize its patterns must, in fact, evolve if we are to have friendships with our siblings that sustain and enrich our adult lives.
I snatched the list from my brother's hand and stormed into the jams and jellies.
The next afternoon near Cardiff City Center, I came face to face with John's full "Torchwood" image on the back of a double-decker bus. After the initial shock, I announced to the elderly woman standing near me, "Hey, that's my little brother!"
She backed up a few steps, gripped her purse against her coat, smiled, and nodded.
I'm not sure what I wanted her to say in reply: "That's brilliant, luv" or "You must be proud," or "You must be the best big sister ever!"
Yeah, that's the one.