Schnucks: Throwaway or Recycled & Me
Posted January 4, 2011on:
I thought this was going to be a throwaway blog post, something mildly amusing at best. But it may turn out to be a recycled memory.
Something found me. I wasn’t looking for it; it just found me. It’s not a puppy that followed me home. This thing is a plastic bag from Schnucks – a grocery store from my childhood in suburban St. Louis. It was right there on my dining room table Sunday as I walked by. How in the heck?
Schnucks was not the grocery store of my early youth. It was at National’s in the Olivette Shopping Center that I was loaded into a cart as my mom – AKA Mommy – shopped.
And this wouldn’t be even mildly amusing if it were a store named something other than Schnucks, just one letter off from the Yiddish word, schmucks, which politely means jerk and impolitely I shall not say. I’m sure the Schnucks family, which has been in the grocery business since 1939 and has 100 stores in the Midwest, would not be so amused.
I had cleaned out the front closet a few weeks ago, which made me think it had risen to the top from there. Perhaps some things of my mom had but in it. But no; that wasn’t it. This was no bag from my childhood; it is plastic bag marked with a website and the marketing line, “We make it easy.”
Everything is easy, perhaps, but how the bag got there.
Son-in-law Mike thought it might have gotten there when he asked me for a bag or two when he and Maggie were packing to go home. I pulled a couple bags out of a very stuffed drawer of plastic bags used for cleaning the cat boxes.
I have been known to lose things now and then. I often say I spend half of my time losing things and the other half looking for them. Sometimes when I lose things they rise to the surface once I confess I can’t find something.