Talking to a Stranger

It’s 9:35 p.m. and I am determined to fulfill my pledge and post today. I’m also determined to go to bed before 11:00 p.m. So, this is not going to be deathless prose.

The last time I was in a store was March 11th.

For the past 41 days, I’ve been experimenting with eating from the food storage we’ve maintained for the last 40 years. When the lockdown began, I resolved to delay a grocery trip. Jim decided that seven weeks would be a sufficient test and a few weeks ago he made a date with me to shop on April 21. I persuaded him to get up before 6 a.m. for “Senior Hour” at Market Basket. For the first time, I saw upended grocery carriages festooned with yellow hazard tape to mark the waiting line outside the store. For about 20 minutes, we waited six feet behind a man with a scarf around his face. Jim and I sported the hand-made facemasks our friend Ellen sewed.

125 people were allowed in the store at once. My carefully-crafted grocery list was in store-aisle order. About two aisles into our trip, we noticed that all the aisles had ‘one-way’ signs. Oops! Later I gently told an errant shopper or two, “You didn’t notice, but the aisles are all one-way.” I loved being in the know.

In the checkout line, it was my turn to make a mistake. I obediently stood behind the broad blue-tape line on the floor, six feet away from the conveyor belt. But when the previous order was rung up and the belt empty, I started to place my order, keeping more than six feet away from the other customer. The cashier quickly told me to take my items off the belt: I had to wait until the previous order was completely packed up and the customer moving away before starting to load the belt.

Slightly embarrassed, I explained to the customer, “This is the first time I’ve shopped for over a month; I didn’t know the procedure.”

He smiled and remarked that I must have a lot of food at home.

“Yes, we store food, like rice and beans.”

“That’s a lot of rice and beans.”

We laughed together.

As my order was being bagged, the man behind me started filling the conveyor belt. Again, the cashier warned. I smiled, “Oh, I’m so glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t know.”

When we got home, Jim loaded the kitchen porch with the paper grocery bags (reusable shopping bags are prohibited in Massachusetts) while I stored the snow shovels and sand buckets in the garage to make room. We stood on the porch, searching the web for safe practices in unpacking groceries. Then we went in, washed our hands, and I wiped down packages and rearranged the fridge. We left the non-perishables on the porch to age overnight.

Such a simple pleasure, to go to a grocery store and talk to a stranger.