Farm to Table
I made a bet with my wife. The bet was I wouldn’t write a Pet Peeves column for one month to see if people noticed. No one noticed. I didn’t get one editorial letter, one email, one tweet, or even an emoji. I’m relieved about the emoji. I’ve seen pizza commercials where emojis order your pizza. I would never trust anybody or thing to select my toppings. Computer thingies have gone too far. Once they get hold of your pizza order, then they’ll be guzzling your beer. That’s what the Fifth Amendment is all about. But I was a good loser and honored the bet. My wife won a round trip all expenses paid vacation to Paris. However, she insisted on a one-way ticket and told me she was budgeting. I haven’t heard a word from her or her emoji.
I’m going to own up to a possible disconnection between me and other people. My earliest recollection of this affliction came in kindergarten. I clearly remember sitting under a table watching the boys throw blocks at each other and the girls whispering to each other about how they would rearrange the blocks in a more attractive way. The classroom was held in the basement of a local Methodist church. I prayed everyday to get me out of there in one piece so I could go to first grade and be given a big thick red number two pencil to defend myself with. That’s what motivated me to be a writer.
Now I’m out of school and all grown out. My neighbors are older and don’t throw blocks or rearrange them. But the confusion persists. They suggest to me to write investigative pieces. I’m not an investigative reporter. I leave public corruption, police investigations and social injustices to competent reporters. I’m not competent. There I said it. Now let’s move on or I’ll reacquaint you to my big thick red number two pencil. Yes, I still have it.
Nonetheless, to try to get back in the good graces of neighbors and readers, I’m relenting to report on a serious social issue and that’s the closing of the Haggen store in Laguna. Haggen was known for their organic produce. However, nearly from the get go, shoppers noticed prices 20-30% higher than other stores. In no time at all, the store morphed into Haggen the Horrible. They’ve declared bankruptcy and intend to sue the former seller for a billion dollars because of alleged corporate sabotage. The lawyers have been called in to lay blame for the big stink in what was once promoted as farm to table freshness.
Meanwhile employees and shoppers are left in the lurch. It’s a terrible place to be. But I remember advice I got once from an acquaintance when farms were in trouble back in the ‘70s. He said, “Don’t worry we don’t need farms. There’s always grocery stores.” (This same person also believed that Alaska and Hawaii were next to each other because he saw it on maps.)
Don’t despair Haggen employees. Let me boost your spirits. Back in Chicago during the ‘80s, I phone ordered a lot of Little Caesars Pizza. Customers had to pick up their pizzas back then. I missed a couple days of phoning in my order. The Little Caesars staff called me. “Are you all right, Mr. Crantz? We’re worried. We haven’t heard from you.”
Bless their hearts. It always good to know somebody cares. I care. And this column is my self-check out wishing all the best to local Haggen employees. Hang in there. I believe a Little Caesars look alike is in your immediate future.
According to Mark’s publicist, who we know is Mark using a lower voice on the phone, had Mark won the bet with his wife, Mark would be in Paris, Ky. It’s the home of the largest one room log structure in the country. Mark wants to become a real estate developer and dedicate his life to room additions.
