Miss Locality

I've grown foxglove (source for digitalis), garlic chives, oregano, figs, St. John's wort (source for placebo effect of happiness) and other vegetative matter in my yard. Some grows wild like mayapple and trillium. I haven't grown cocoa so I have to drive to the local market to find raw powdered cocoa or cocoa processed with other ingredients made into convenient snack-sized morsels for instant satisfaction or craving.

This evening, I trotted down to the local corner store where fossil fuel is sold by the truckload and the glare of shoplights make me wish I'd remember to wear my shades. A broken bag of ice melted on the road surface like a bleeding roadkill. People wandered around like the Night of the Living Dead.

A cashier walked in behind me and shouted, "Hey, everything's free tonight." I could only think of "Clerks" and other aimless 20-something flicks.

Meanwhile, dodging the flesh-eating zombies, I looked down at the shopping list for tonight's quick fix - Hershey's milk chocolate bar with almonds and Heath bar for the mizzuz, and a six-pack of brewskis for moi.

I'm rewinding the clock beside me and thinking back to 1987 when my wife and I "closed" on our house, meaning we'd signed papers agreeing to pay two and a half times the value of our home in principal and interest over 30 years. We trotted down to the same convenience store, then named Knott's Landing, and looked at the selection of fine alcoholic beverages available for our celebratory mood. Let's see, from memory I recall Boone's Farm strawberry wine, Wild Irish Rose, MD 20/20 (Mogen David a/k/a Mad Dog) and other wino favorites from which to choose, set in coolers next to Budweiser, Pabst Blue Ribbon, generic beer, Milwaukee's Best, Miller, and Colt 45.

The wine choices now include "wine coolers" while the beer choices include hard lemonade. I scratched my head for a moment, admiring the tall blonde who was stepping out of the bathroom and chatting on the mobile phone. I selected a Sam Adams Boston Lager, an interesting substitute for good microbrewery delights, with a hint of hops that'll hold my tastebuds still until I can get some more powerful brew.

A nod to Keisha working behind the counter. Thanks for flashing those pretty eyes at just another customer standing next to the cash register. It's been many a day when I've seen folks like you burned out and tuned out, mentally counting the minutes until shift change. If Billy Knott is still leasing the place, you're giving a fair deal to him and the people who lease from him. You may not remember the bait shop across the intersection or the Mountain View restaurant down the street but I reckon you young folks don't have to. I admit I don't have memories of the former Highway 431 that old man Miller had from his store up the road. But I can still see the Subletts' cotton gin where the new Exxon station sits. You can't get a global view unless you're sitting squarely on local ground surrounded by the smells of defoliant, perfume, cologne, stale beer, spilled petrol, hot antifreeze, processed potato crisps, milk, cigarettes, and metal shelving. The ding of an open car door with keys in the ignition closes out this blog entry.