Economy of Produce

“Mommy, why do you eat the grapes?”

“To see how sweet they are.”

“Can I try a grape?”

“No child, you're sweet enough. If you try a grape and it’s sour, it might make you sour too.”

“But mommy!” “I want to try a grape, the green ones!”

“NO!” “If you don’t chew it you might choke!” “I can’t have you choking, especially in the store” “And if they saw you choke because of a grape they might kick us out! And then what would we do? No grapes – no food!?” “Now be quiet and let me shop.”

The shopping cart shimmied to the left. The front wheel was bent up, probably after someone jammed it on the curb. The right front wheel had mop strings wedged into it and would give a partial rotation every few feet as it was being pushed.

The child gave the wheels enough weight to be pushed along without sliding out of control. The meager amount of groceries in the basket so far wouldn’t amount to half a bag at checkout. The produce section had always seemed too fancy, and she definitely knew it was too expensive. Canned green beans would feed all four of them and she could buy five for five dollars. A pound of fresh green beans would be more than that plus she would have to clean and trim them before she had to cook them.

A bag of chips or pretzels and a can of soda would fill them up before dinner and then we would have the Salsbury steak with canned green beans. The steak was a standard. Being a “Giant Man” serving, she would divide it between the four of them. Her husband would get the half portion, and she would share the second half with the kids. She was watching her weight and the kids didn’t like the brown gloppy gravy on the steak but they would eat the white mashed potato that came as a side. The mashed potato that had sopped up the gravy went to her husband and her.

The grapes were her treat though and she wouldn’t share them, so she never bought any, just ate a few while going through the produce section on the way into the store. The produce area always smelled of fresh clean rain. The misty morning rain after a warm night. The fans would blow a mist on them as they passed by the rows of fresh-cut lettuce.

“What are those big red things, Mommy?”

“Those are beets.”

“Why don’t we get some of those?”

“Because I don’t know how to cook them, and anyways, I don’t think you would like them anyhow.”

“But we have eaten them before, I remember we had them once with some chicken.”

“Those were probably canned and on sale or clearance.”

“Oh, we could try to cook some.” “What about those carrots? We eat carrots at school sometimes. They come cut up into little rounds with a wavy surface and are pretty soft. I like them 'cause they are sweet and have a mapley flavor.”

“No, I said! They were probably canned also or at least frozen.”

The automatic sliding doors at the front of the store opened and out of the foggy parking lot ran in a full-size living produce sampler. A giant skinny mustachioed carrot, a tall slender bunch of celery with each stalk capped by wispy light green fronds, a bulbous purple beet, and a shorter bulbous rusty red radish followed by the leftovers of an underwear commercial of green and red grapes along with a giant apple, missing a bite. With the precision of a military unit, the apple was barking commands to the squad of produce.

“Carl and Cheryl grab some carrots and celery, a few bags of each. Gary and Gretchen get your grapes, as many bags as you can carry. Bob and Randy, you guys get your beets and radishes bags also and I’ll grab the apples.” Andy yelled at them all as they scattered through the produce section to complete their missions.

“Mommy, what are they doing?”

“I have no clue child.? But they certainly are in a hurry.”

The grapes rushed past them both and gathered as many bunches of grapes as they could carry in both arms, dropping many loose grapes on the ground and mashing them into pulp as they began their escape. The carrot stopped in front of them and politely excused himself as he reached for multiple bags of carrots.

“We're in a race as produce for our college rush week and we have to get whatever vegetable or fruit we are to throw out along the parade route.” The latte foam was still fresh in his mustache and frothed out of his mouth as he rushed by them, almost pushing them out of the way. “We can’t stop 'cause we can’t get caught” and with that, they all rushed to the front door and disappeared into the misty foggy morning.

The store staff jaunted over to the front door as it began to slide shut and reversed back open again. All they could do was stare into the fog with disbelief and slowly turn to look into the produce area.

“What did they get?” the store manager asked her as he haughtily approached. “Why didn’t you try to stop them?” The look of disgust at her in action was apparent on his face.

“I’m not sure but I know they got some of these carrots and they spilled a lot of grapes on the floor”

“Every year, again, every year.” “And again, all they will do is nothing”

She picked some grapes off the floor as the produce clerk began to sweep up what had fallen and was crushed. They were swept into the bin at the end of a long handle and locked away as they walked away, and it swung shut when lifted.

She whipped them on her shirt gently before holding her hand out “Here sweetie, have these, they won’t be missed.”