My local Kroger delivered yet another blog post for me. Readers probably think all I do is shop at Kroger. I don’t. I try to go once a week, on Wednesdays, which used to be senior discount days.
Shopping at my neighborhood Kroger is a treat; no matter what day I go. Interesting people are there, and strange things take place. Stories abound at this store.
I first met one of those interesting people when Kroger was remodeling and enlarging. She is a tiny, tiny, elderly woman, who at that time walked around the store answering shoppers’ questions about where everything had moved and handing out sheets of paper, a roadmap of sorts to the new aisles.
I probably asked her a few questions, said a few hellos. I learned more when an article about her on local online news. A singer and songwriter, she had been married to guitar player and songwriter (caught my attention because I gave birth to one of those) Kenneth “Thumbs” Carlisle (1931-1987). In their career, they were connected with such musical luminaries as Red Foley, Les Paul and Roger Williams.
That story gave me a way to talk, which I do whenever I can. I always return her smile when I see her, which I did this week. Who would have thought this 87-year-old woman working at my Kroger had such a story. Hers joins all the other rich stories walking up and down those aisles.
As I left the store lugging this week’s groceries to my car, chanting and loud voices assaulted me. Scanning the parking lot, I located the source.
The last place candidate for governor in this state’s Republican primary had parked his “deportation bus” in the lot there, and our citizens were having none of it. Other than the time I saw members of the Klu Klux Klan marching while dressed in their full regalia of white sheets, this “deportation bus” was about the most hateful public demonstration I’ve witnessed. It still haunts me.
My Kroger store is located in one of the most diverse counties in the country. Shopping inside that store were people of all colors and ethnicity, dressed in all sorts of ways. I felt so bad; I wanted to go back inside and tell each one of them that we all didn’t feel the way this so-called candidate did. What was he thinking?
Prior to planting himself in the Kroger lot, he had already taken his “deportation” bus to an even more diverse area of our county. But, the people of my county told this guy what they thought of him. They gathered around his bus, refusing loudly to get on board with his campaign promise.
The local news media reported that after this incident, he took his bus and went home. To add insult to (his) injury, his bus literally broke down on the interstate.
What a rich, interesting experience I had while buying our weekly sustenance.
This is what I love about writing. Stories are every where, even the grocery store.
Leave a Reply