I was at the \u201cSunday Morning Old Man Grocery Store Club\u201d meeting the other day. We assemble every Sunday at 6 a.m. A couple of guys get there earlier, when they have to pick up groceries, but most of us are there for a New York City newspaper. That\u2019s when they are delivered. You can tell the service is underway by how the cars and pick-up trucks are parked in the lot. They all face out of their parking space, so they don\u2019t have to be backed up. We\u2019re back up challenged. And know it! <\/p>\n
It\u2019s a men\u2019s only club. I don\u2019t know why. No one excluded women; that is just the way it is. We\u2019re there for a New York City paper. I\u2019m there for the Times. It takes me an entire week to get through it. Half the time I have to read it in the garage because I yell at it, especially when I\u2019m working through the opinion section. But even when I don\u2019t agree with the columnist, I learn something. It\u2019s a vehicle for broadening my outlook and continuing my education. <\/p>\n
The store gets three copies of the Times and also a small number of the Daily News. It\u2019s first come, first served. Which is why we\u2019re so prompt in getting there. I bet the customers who arrive later in the day have no idea that these \u201cexotic\u201d big city papers are available. <\/p>\n
Every so often, more often than it should, the \u201cpaper guy\u201d is late. That\u2019s when you\u2019ll see us circling the parking lot or sitting in our cars, slumped over the wheel and sound asleep. I\u2019m too impatient to wait in the parking lot, so I drive around town to kill time. I use the time to check on what\u2019s going on in the village; who has a ladder leaning against their house (indicating a paint or repair job is underway) or what house has a new \u201cFor-sale,\u201d or \u201cSold,\u201d sign in the front yard. Those sort of things. <\/p>\n
I make sure to swing by the drug store every so often, to see if a paper bundle is sitting in a heap by the front door. It means the \u201cpaper-guy\u201d is on his way to the grocery store, since it\u2019s his next stop. When he gets out of his van, we gather around and follow him inside, trying to make small talk, “Glad you made it.\u201d – \u201cRun into traffic today?\u201d No matter what we say, all we get in return is a grunt. I don\u2019t think he likes his job. Or us! <\/p>\n
We get the cashier to open the bundles, but first we have to find her; she\u2019s in the aisles returning stuff that people decided not to buy. It keeps her busy, since so few people come to the store that early on a Sunday morning. <\/p>\n
We grab our paper and get in line, nodding or saying, \u201cMornin,\u201d to each other. We\u2019re like a family, in a way, but we don\u2019t know each other\u2019s names. Still, we\u2019re a close-knit group who meet most every Sunday morning and go through our newspaper buying ritual. Anybody can attend; we\u2019re non-denominational. Just don\u2019t come late! You won\u2019t get a paper.<\/p>\n