I went to the Lund's grocery store on the corner of 98th and Normandale this morning. As I strolled through the store, greeting the butcher, the deli manager, the produce manager, and the assistant manager, Michelle, I realized I have been shopping at this store regularly for 15 years.
Michelle told me her youngest was now three. Of course I remember when she was pregnant. She has four children and once emailed their photo to me. She is the one who handed me a gift certificate for $250 dollars two days after my brother was killed. Offering condolences, she said the staff at Lunds knew we would be having more company in the next week or two.
I cannot go to this store without seeing someone I've known for years. A neighbor asks me to greet my parents, a former classmate (from 1973) asks what I'm up to, a parishioner from St. Edward's greets me and says the old folks miss me at daily mass, a young woman blushes as she says she had me for senior English at Jefferson high school. Sue at the cash register notices my hair cut. I can't be anonymous at this store.
This familiarity is a tremendous gift. With the exception of my four years of college and several years in La Crosse, I have lived within five miles of this grocery store. I like this sense of place. It is remarkably grounding.
Michelle told me her youngest was now three. Of course I remember when she was pregnant. She has four children and once emailed their photo to me. She is the one who handed me a gift certificate for $250 dollars two days after my brother was killed. Offering condolences, she said the staff at Lunds knew we would be having more company in the next week or two.
I cannot go to this store without seeing someone I've known for years. A neighbor asks me to greet my parents, a former classmate (from 1973) asks what I'm up to, a parishioner from St. Edward's greets me and says the old folks miss me at daily mass, a young woman blushes as she says she had me for senior English at Jefferson high school. Sue at the cash register notices my hair cut. I can't be anonymous at this store.
This familiarity is a tremendous gift. With the exception of my four years of college and several years in La Crosse, I have lived within five miles of this grocery store. I like this sense of place. It is remarkably grounding.
Nice entry! That must be a great feeling, but I can see how sometimes maybe you'd like a little anonymity too.
ReplyDeleteThanks for finding my blog. I feel a little inspired to maybe work on it some more. Yes, let's encourage each other!
Thank you again for the wonderful night on Saturday. You are so gracious and generous.