I planned to write this column before shelter in place became a way of life. Back in December 2019 when life seemed normal, I noticed a sign offering home delivery by a grocery chain in Savannah. One had only to call, email or text a list, pay for the items in advance and the groceries would be delivered to the purchaser’s home. What an offer!
With Covid -19, not only grocery stores, but restaurants beyond pizza places have also offered home delivery. With the magic of technology, customers place orders and pay in advance with credit cards. Goods are delivered quickly. But home delivery of any kind isn’t a new idea.
And, I’m sure these modern conveniences don’t come with the “extra services” of the past. Back in the mid 20th century, my dad owned a small neighborhood grocery store, thriving amid the advent of supermarkets in Dallas, with his service-oriented business. He let customers charge groceries. I remember the large stack of receipt books, one for each charging customer, he kept near the cash register. And he delivered groceries daily. People called in their order. Daddy filled them, bagged them and placed the total amount in the customer’s charge book. Most times, customers paid their bill monthly.
Only, his deliveries came with a bonus. The delivery man always returned with tales to tell at the end of each run. One customer needed him to help her turn a mattress. Another needed a light bulb changed. A third needed him to help move a piece of furniture behind which an important document had slipped. Turned out to be a grandchild’s latest drawing. My dad was amused and entertained us each evening at supper with Cecil’s latest adventures.
After I married, of course, I shopped at Lowry’s Grocery Store in Dallas, Texas. My dad, standing in the meat department, would think a bit, then begin to prepare packages of meat of me. On each package, wrapped in white butcher paper, he would write full directions for how to prepare the meat. Then, he would add suggestions of what to serve with it. During the two years he lived after we married, he taught me how to plan meals, prepare food and cook.
For the family, Daddy delivered groceries each day at noon when he came home for lunch. Mother gave him a list each morning before he left and he dutifully filled it before heading home. It was their routine, one that my mother never outgrew. After she was widowed and later remarried a widower, she continued to shop daily.
I was reminded of her daily trips to the store when a friend was to be hospitalized and I offered to shop for her mother. I suggested that my friend tell her mother I only shopped at one store once a week. The arrangement ended up providing me not only a way to help my friend, but it also demonstrated a new lesson for me to teach my students, and changed a mere acquaintance into a dear friend. Long after my friend resumed shopping for her mother, I still stopped by on a regular basis to visit my new friend.
And the lesson? I called it the grocery list. Whereas she would write potatoes, onions, chips, etc. on her list. We would talk about what kind of potatoes and how many? A bag onions or just a few? What brand chips and what size? As my students created their own pretend grocery lists, we talked about how my friend’s list was a writer’s list and how our discussion about specifics turned it into the reader’s list. I know my daddy would have been proud of that lesson.
Happy Father’s Day. May it prompt fond memories for you.
2020
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