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Southern born, Southern reared. It's a quirky place and we are unique folk... These are my people and these are my stories.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Southern Sunday's (Where Are They Now?)

I don't like to go to the grocery store on Saturdays. So busy. I try to go, when I go, during the weekdays.

But yesterday, a Saturday, I had to make a run to Publix. A big run. A "filled shopping cart" run.

"Plastic okay?" the young girl who stood at the end of the checkout counter asked.

I told her it was ... I bought those reusable bags ... and I have managed to leave them in my car every single time I've ever gone into the store.

So the cashier scanned, the girl bagged, and I paid. "Which way to your car?" the girl asked. I pointed to the left. "That way," I answered.

As we walked out of the air-conditioning inside to the warming temperature outside, she asked if I was having a good day. I told her it had been a busy day so far. She told me she had come in at 11. I smiled and said, "That's nice ... you got to sleep in." She laughed lightly. "Yes, I did."

I told her I don't usually come to the grocery store on Saturday because it's so busy.

"Actually," she said, "Sunday is the busiest."

Sunday? Seriously? So I said that thing that dated me and made her look at me sideways. "I remember," I said, "When no stores were open on Sundays. None. People went to church, they came home, they had Sunday dinner, and then they hung out with family and friends."

"Seriously?" she asked.(Yes, it took us longer riding the dinosaurs to church and home, don't you know?)

"I remember," I said, driving the stake farther into my own heart, "when the drug store in my little community decided to open on Sunday. But only after 1:00. After church. And only the pharmacy, in case someone needed their prescriptions filled."

To myself, I said, "It was the beginning of the downfall ..."
To me, she said, "Wow ... that's hard to imagine." (Insert frowny face here.)

Ah, the Sunday's of my youth. We slept in later than if we were going to school but not as late as we had the morning before. Sunday school followed by church. Mother's fried chicken. Or pot roast. With potatoes. Or rice and gravy... Spending time with my family. Daddy being home! Spending afternoons on motorcycles or at the "creek" with friends (as I got older). Playing with the kids in the neighborhood (when I was younger). Then back to church for MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship) and Sunday night service.

Now what are people doing? Rushing to the grocery store with all the others who are rushing to the grocery store. (Can you say "boring" boys and girls?)

I miss the Sundays of my youth. I miss them ... badly.

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