By Pam (aka Gates) Johnson
One of the great things about aging on Vashon is Tuesday at the local IGA. If you are on the south side of 50 – or is it 55 – you get a 10% discount on your entire order every Tuesday. This is a serious bonus if you, like me, are old and on a fixed income. So, all of us oldies in the know head there on Tuesday to save a buck.
The discount is the incentive to get me out of my recliner, put down my knitting, and get to the grocery store. Once there, the social kicks in. Chances are if you are like me, your social circle has shrunk. I see my pals at the pool for senior water walking/aerobics. I “chat” with a few on Facebook. Share opinions via text with some others. Mostly, I talk to family and a few friends on the phone and deep dive into YouTube way too much. Getting out into the real world and having a physical interaction with humans is nice for a change.
Usually, I can get in the door with just a “Hi” from the uber-friendly cashier who makes a point of knowing everyone’s name. Head down the front of the store, past the liquor cabinet (no thanks), and on to the pastry display (yes, darn it). I rationalize the $5.00 mini cupcakes because they are only costing me $4.50.
Next stop is the deli, unless it’s around lunch time. There are a lot of tradespeople who hit the deli for lunch. If I get a late start, there are no honey corn dogs left, so I have to get a chicken thigh and some onion rings.
At this stage, I usually run into someone I know. It could be a pool pal, a parent of a middle-school student I knew when I worked at McMurray, a parent of a kid who was in 4H with my kids, an old (no pun intended) neighbor, sometimes even a former student, which reminds me why I’m here every Tuesday (my age, you know).
I’ve lived here since 1970, so the chances of seeing someone I know are pretty high. Some of their names I remember, some not.
I worked for the school district for 32 years. There was an average of 300 or so kids who went through every year. Some kids I got to know pretty well, especially if they tended to get in trouble and sent to the office on the regular. I got to monitor them during their stay in the “clink” and got to know some well. I can recognize a lot of the grown up ex-students, but for some reason their parents think I should remember them too, which I often don’t. Just write it off as long-term memory loss.
I don’t usually take the time to write a shopping list. Get half-way through the store and have to backtrack for something I just remembered I needed. On the way back, I run into another person I know, and we end up rehashing old times for twenty minutes. Depending on where we stop to chat, cart traffic can back up for a couple of aisles. If it turns out to be a conversation that needs more time, we might set up a lunch date at Sporty’s. Then on to finish shopping.
The last aisle of my preplanned route starts with ice cream. I try to bypass the Häagen Dazs dark chocolate-coated chocolate ice cream bars, but often give in; 10% discount, you know. Produce is the final stop, where I let at least some healthy options into my cart. Usually, I load up on fruit, but my cardio doc said to pass up the bananas and oranges and choose the berries. Apparently, berries are more heart-healthy and at this age we have to take care of the old ticker.
There are often a few people in line at the checkout. More time to reconnect with old friends. Also, an opportunity to check out what others are buying. Are they better shoppers than me? More health conscious or junk food junkies? Who cares? It’s none of my business.
Out the door with my loaded-up, recycled Trader Joe shopping bags, and wow, there is another old friend to say hi to on the way to my car. Like a good shopper, I push my cart into the cart corral, then get into my Bronco and head home. That’s about all the excitement I can handle in one day.
