Great Holy Mecca: Saved by a Supermarket

You would have thought Elvis had been spotted buying toothpaste at CVS, or that aliens from Uranus had descended upon Friendly's for the sole purpose of handing out free ice cream to the masses.

Throngs of people swarmed about the center of my small town like sharks to a bucket of chum.


Was 50 Cent back in town to perform an impromptu concert in front of the local bank? Had Sarah Palin dropped by to say "howdy" and do her best Tina Fey impression? Was Oprah giving away cars or houses or big wads of cash?

No. It was something much, much better. Bigger. Something wonderful! Magical! Something that would prove to be altogether life changing for me and many other people.

My town's long-awaited brand new and glorious Stop & Shop had opened its doors for the very first time.

"Don't even bother coming here," my husband had said when I phoned him on my way home from work. "You'll never find a place to park - it's completely jammed."

He had taken the kids to this exciting grocery store grand opening celebration "to eat," and there he found himself sandwiched between every single one of our neighbors and their kids, as well as what appeared to be every single resident of our town.

Clearly, Stop & Shop was the place to be - as it's always been to me, though for different reasons.

Security Guard Extraordinaire Rob Merrill doing his best to keep the peace and prevent stampedes at the big event.

Long time readers of this blog (Hi Dad!) may recall my love-hate relationship with a store I used to affectionately refer to as "Stinky Stop & Shop." Sadly, I wasn't terribly complimentary of this small relic of a supermarket, well-known 'round these parts not so much for what it offered, but for what it lacked. Namely, fresh produce, fresh dairy products, fresh meat, fresh bread, fresh anything.

I shopped there anyways. It was too convenient not to, just a stone's throw from my front door. And then, of course, there was the lure of my bagger lady friend and her random acts of kindness. "You look pretty," she said to me once or twice, and that was enough to keep me coming back for more - shopping for compliments while filling my cart with wilted lettuce and expired cream cheese.

Even without her sporadic niceties, I always felt pretty at Stinky Stop & Shop, and since it's demolition several months ago, I have to admit that I have felt distinct pangs of loss.

Judging by the scene I witnessed at the gleaming new beacon of a store in its place - a modern day Mecca composed of rotisserie chicken, sushi rolls, fresh flowers, and warm sourdough bread - I wasn't the only one.

This was the biggest show of community I had ever seen in my town - more than our popular Memorial Day parade and even our local fire department's annual fourth of July fireworks display.


Shoppers young and old navigated new aisles on old familiar territory with wide eyes and wider smiles. Old ties were re-kindled and new friendships made through the shared experience of supermarket discovery. "Hey, did you see the expanded natural food selection? The deli department? The bank?"

With plates of baked ziti and cheese cubes in hand, neighbors toasted neighbors and our collective good fortune with dixie cups filled with free soda and sparkling apple cider. And cake. What's a celebration without a little cake?


It was like Christmas in October, and all of us had been blessed with 34,000 square feet of consumer paradise. Our ugly duckling of a supermarket had transformed into a beautiful swan.

And in a way, we did too.

Stop & Shop photos courtesy of my pal Gruppie Girl, a woman who's greener than grass, more eco-friendly than a happy face reusable hemp shopping bag, and able to leap tall piles of recyclables in a single bound (but only if she's wearing footwear constructed with organic bamboo. Thanks, Gruppie!