The Nation's Pulse
We Lose Our Grocery Store
Unwelcome reminders of suburban isolation.
(Page 2 of 2)
"I don't want to just sit around the house," she said. "I don't know."
Thinking back on that week now, I don't remember seeing Jimmy. I was in and out of the store half a dozen times, loading up on non-perishables of all kinds at a 20 percent discount: mayonnaise, ketchup, dog food, coffee, anything I could think of.
I don't know what happened to Jimmy. I could imagine him sitting home crying. I can also imagine that I'll come across him again working somewhere else, giving out with his relentlessly cheery line of patter.
"Oh, jobs come and jobs go. Doesn't matter. I've got the best job in the world now. It's a great day, just bein' alive."
You tell 'em, Jimmy.
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