Ma and Pa Incorporated
Now hear this: I now have daily access to unlimited supplies of prosciutto. Add to that the seven types of Havarti cheese, fruit juice in a barrel and aerodynamic lawn furniture. Lest we forget the $9.99 non-stick frying pan.
Such is life when your little town has been chosen by the Gods of Industry to receive its blessing in the form of a brand spanking new thirty two aisle grocery monolith. This is not a complaint, more a continuing observation of what happens when City takes yet another hill in its ongoing battle with Country.
Years ago the concept would have seemed totally preposterous: bringing that much of civilization to areas uncharted, unexplored and largely unemployed. How could one make a financial go of something this daunting unless they were prepared to take Raccoonbucks at par? There simply was no logical reason to
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Ma and Pa Incorporated
Now hear this: I now have daily access to unlimited supplies of prosciutto. Add to that the seven types of Havarti cheese, fruit juice in a barrel and aerodynamic lawn furniture. Lest we forget the $9.99 non-stick frying pan.
Such is life when your little town has been chosen by the Gods of Industry to receive its blessing in the form of a brand spanking new thirty two aisle grocery monolith. This is not a complaint, more a continuing observation of what happens when City takes yet another hill in its ongoing battle with Country.
Years ago the concept would have seemed totally preposterous: bringing that much of civilization to areas uncharted, unexplored and largely unemployed. How could one make a financial go of something this daunting unless they were prepared to take Raccoonbucks at par? There simply was no logical reason to have a store of that size and with that selection in a region like ours.
Sure, all towns like this tend to grow over the years. We have new residents and new retirees and even new retiree residents but opening a store so large that birds have added it to their migration route simply is, well, big news.
Of course no one would have ever anticipated the mass infestation of Mr. and Mrs. Suburbia that occurs every single summer weekend. Cottage Country Assault Vehicles, packed to slingshot northward at the stroke of five, stand poised to attack whatever rodent or insect crosses their path. Inherent in this personal, forty two hour, rural round trip is the desire to obtain everything a person, a wallet, and a stomach could possibly wish for. Mr. Desire, meet Mr. Need. Mr. Mountain, meet Mr. Mohammed.
Gone are the days of cramming the boat trailer full of anything edible that can survive a three hour trip north and the occasional gas spill. Cottagers no longer have to determine the proper culinary compliment to franks and beans. Their grocery selection now has a summer home too.
Of course village locals haven't exactly made out badly in this new and somewhat shocking immersion to urban shopping culture. To some, this is the city they've heard so much about: huge shelves, endless selection and toilet paper as far as the eye can see. They can shop for an hour and not even make it out of produce.
The atmosphere that surrounded the rumours, announcement, building and grand opening of The Store would make either of the Ringling brothers proud. From Day One the prospects of having a store that size in our town our size kept Gossip Central busy for months. Admittedly there was a noticeable letdown when it was discovered that the new store's name wouldn't start with "Canadian" and end with "Tire" but still the anticipation was palpable.
That heightened interest lasted throughout the whole lot clearing and construction stage due in large part to an abundance of the largest gas-powered toys a sandbox had ever seen. Anticipation reached an absolute fever pitch with the declaration of an actual opening date. When people line up two hours in advance of the opening time to shop a grocery store you know either it's big news for a small town or Paul McCartney's working the cash.
The resistance has been noticeable as well. On both sides. For some full time residents, the reaction has been predictable. The store's too big. I can't find anything anymore. Where's the headcheese? Those from The Land of Pavement complain that faceless Grocery Inc. has found their best hiding place, and that they actually enjoyed buying mustard in a can from either Ma or Pa.
Certainly the town has lost some of its innocence, and some of its charm and even some of its intolerance. As much as change is constant and inevitable and change in a small town travels at a much slower speed, change does eventually come to everyone. Sometimes the wind itself will turn the page you're unwilling to turn.
Part of the appeal of areas undiscovered like ours is its freedom from synthetic things that large. There was always a tangible line you crossed between Us and Them, that turned our store into their warehouse and our group of stores into their mall. People didn't always know when they crossed that line but they knew where they crossed it. Now the line, if it still exists, is invisible.
In reality The Store is essentially a non-event for the city folk. They've seen a lot of this sort of thing and they're likely to see a lot more. But for some of us, the people who slowly discover the entire building's in the same time zone, this is a major event in our lives. It is yet another passage, good or bad, for a place we collectively call our home.
It is, though, still our friendly little town. That fact becomes abundantly clear the first time you pass that same familiar face you've passed many times before. You still get that courteous smile, the same friendly "Hello", that ubiquitous glad-to-see-you welcoming glance. That's when you remember where you are. The stage may be slightly different but the actors are still the same. We just have a lot more paper towel to choose from.
