The Grocery Store

I’ve always loved grocery shopping. The organization of options, getting to appreciate well designed (and poorly designed) labels, accidentally putting the wrong item in my cart only to curse myself when I get home. I love all of it.

I’m not sure where this love started, but if I had to guess, it was around the time my grandpa (my dad’s dad) asked if I wanted to walk to the Acme Fresh Market with him. We only saw my grandpa once every two years or so, mostly for holidays, but this time we were there during a muggy Akron, Ohio summer.

As a retired milkman, he was an early-riser, so I don’t remember if I got up early to go with him, or if he waited, but I remember it was still cool. And sunny. And quiet.

One might think getting excited about going to a grocery store makes me a dull boy, but the jokes on you, because that’s just one of the reasons I’m dull. Either way, I was excited. I mean, it’s not like I’d never been in a grocery store before, but Acme Fresh Market had balconies! Faux balconies, but balconies! There was decor! Not holiday decor, but “I’m-traveling-the-world” decor! My nine-year-old self didn’t know what to do with it all.

Now I was/am a huge fan of the Willy Wonka tale, specifically the Gene Wilder movie (which has its own ties to Ohio for me — but that’s a story for a different day). So, I don’t want to overstate this, but that day, walking with my grandpa down an aisle that looked like a European village focused entirely on cheese, was the closest I’ve ever gotten to being Charlie Bucket. (And yes, cheese is superior to candy in my world.)

I haven’t been back to that Acme. I’ve heard it’s been remodeled and no longer looks like a magical food wonderland. But in my mind, it’s still the same. Still giving joy to small, dull children.

“If You Want To View Paradise, Simply Look Around And View It.” - Willy Wonka