Once More, With (Same) Feeling

Yaj snapped this social distancing shot in store parking lot

We have officially munched our way through the ton of groceries Ya-Jhu bought, in six days. I had foolishly thought we could stretch the vittles to 14 days—seven original meals, seven leftover meals, because Yaj is now our official shopper and I didn’t want her making any unnecessary trips. But with six hungry people in the house, each entree just didn’t stretch past Dinner #1. So off she went to Shop N Bag this morning with a big list. I felt irrationally sad to be missing out on this trek (irrational because I really do NOT enjoy food shopping). I think it’s the knowledge that I am pretty stuck in the house (save the odd neighborhood walk) that makes the Produce and Deli departments suddenly so appealing to me. 

 Looking back, there was another, extended time in my life when I could not get to a grocery store whenever I pleased. During my earliest years in Manhattan, Mom would go out at night when we were asleep and hit Gristede’s or D’Agostino’s markets, so for all I knew, the Pantry Fairy came regularly to restock our cupboards. It was when we moved out to the ‘burbs (Ardsley, NY) in 1965 that I came to know and love supermarkets. By sixth grade I could walk to school, and my path home nearly always involved a pit shop at Louis’ Market for soda and something sweet. I felt very adult there, making my selections, then spilling my change on the counter. 

 But then we moved to a place where walking to a store was impossible: Atlanta, GA. Joanie did not drive a car, so we were completely dependent on my dad to ferry us around—and he’d taken a job as a traveling salesman, gone Monday morning through Friday night. Therefore, all food had to be purchased on Saturdays. Dad and Mom had a system: Dad would sit in the parking lot, smoking, while Mom pushed the cart around inside. But here’s the kicker: Mom insisted on finding bargains, so they’d drive from Big Apple to Ogletree’s to Kroger to every week, buying eggs one place, chicken another (which came first?), ground beef at a third emporium. It took almost the whole day, and of course they didn’t really save a dime when you added in all the gas used. But I recall the wonderful feeling of freedom to travel around a bit, after a week of limitation. 

 Over the years, and as a driver, grocery shopping really lost its luster. I came to dread repetitively filling carts with boxes (and boxes) of Pampers, boxes (and boxes) of Honey Nut Cheerios. When the kids eventually got their licenses and actually volunteered to pick up the milk and bread, I rejoiced.

Now here I am, feeling that old stuck, dependent feeling again, wishing mightily that I was standing in that sloooooow checkout line, flanked by the racks of gum and the National Enquirer. 

 I guess the Acme is always greener! Or something!

One of Mom's go-to Atlanta supermarkets many incarnations later, as it looks today