Family, Friends, and Strangers at the Grocery

This post falls under the heading of ‘My Life and Welcome To It’.

I experience the most delightful times at my locally owned (over 75 yrs.) grocery-hardware store. A few weeks ago, while I’m checking out at the grocery, I suddenly hear a muffled male voice that sounded very familiar. I turn to look behind me in the direction of the voice. I scan faces. All are strangers. The muffled voice appears to be coming from a cell phone on speaker that belongs to a man, clearly a workman, at the nearby self-checkout. The dis-embodied muffled voice is giving instruction to the workman. I hear the voice say, “They are comin’ to pick up the truck, and you need to…”

I’m interrupted from listening by the clerk telling me, “That’ll be $65.43.” I pay and push my cart out of the store. I’m still thinking of the voice, trying to place it. I whip out my cell and call my son at his shop, five miles away. “Were you just on the phone with one of your men, and tell him that he needs to come take care of work on a truck?”

“Well, yeah, I did.”

I burst out laughing. “He was here at the grocery, and I heard you!”

It’s a small world.

Another time as I came out of this local grocery store and was loading my bags into my truck, I looked round to see an attractive middle-aged woman heading across the blacktopped parking lot straight for me. Her friendly smile prompted me to smile in return. I said, “Hello. How are you today?” because that’s what we all say down here.

She said, “Just fine, good to see you. It has been so long.” And the next thing she is hugging my neck.

So I hug her back. We are laughing and hugging, and then I think to say, “You know, I probably should know the name of the person who is hugging my neck.”

Still with that beautiful smile, she says, “I’m Elaine. You know, your neighbor Patty’s sister.”

By then it dawns on me to say, “You must think I’m somebody else. I don’t know a Patty.”

“You aren’t Jackie?” She is still smiling big, and so am I.

“No, I’m not Jackie. But I’m glad to meet you.”

We bid as friendly a good-bye as would any two good old friends, and I drove away still smiling.

Then today I popped in to our local grocery store-hardware store for items to take on my camping trip this weekend. I needed this-stuff-that’s-gooey-to-put-on-my-electric-adapter-plug-for-my-camper-cord. That’s how I explained it to the hardware store lady, who called in another lady clerk, who knew exactly what I what I wanted, and both of them showed me where it was, and a customer standing nearby chimed in, too.

You do not ever have to shop alone at this store. As I passed a display of grapes, a man said to me, “These grapes are great.” He was sampling one and picked up a bag.

“Oh, good to know.” I also got a bag.

He was right behind me in checking out, and the clerk and the man and I chatted about the wonderful downpour going on outside. We’ve been weeks in drought.

I pushed my cart outside to the wide porch area and stood watching the rain falling in sheets. A beautiful sight. The friendly grape aficionado came out and joined me, deciding to wait, too. We chatted about the rain and our dogs as we waited for let-up.

Suddenly, I see a familiar big black pickup-truck pull into the space behind my own small truck. (Yes, a pickup truck like the one Royce has in According to Carley Love.) I begin waving. My son gets out of the truck and hurries through the rain to the store, jumping around puddles.

I give him a hug, and he looks down at my feet. “Good thing you’re wearing flip-flops,” he says, then heads into the store to buy supplies for supper.

The rain has turned to drizzle. The grape aficionado and I bid good-bye. I push my cart across the parking lot, sloshing through the rainwater that is warm as bath water. Water so warm that it is a strange, even magical feeling. Sloshing through warm water is not something I do everyday. I’m a kid again for a few minutes.

These are the precious moments of life. The moments that feed my writer soul. They are also something to remember in the face of the news of meanness and tragedy everywhere. The heart of America still lives.

Each of these people I met have a story. These are the everyday heroes that I enjoy writing about. These are the people who hold up the world. My mind starts working.

Grace and peace,