The box with our Christmas Dearborn ham |
My drive south to Nino Salvagio’s fabulous
market in Troy usually takes thirty to forty minutes. Yesterday afternoon, however,
Rochester Road south of Tienken teemed with what we locals know as “Light Show traffic.”
Incidentally, the
town of Rochester erected a sign to alert southbound motorists just in case we
didn’t notice the storefronts alight in brilliant colors. Having observed the
swelling popularity of this Christmas spectacle the past decade, I surmised the
sunny, mild December day lured folk downtown early for a parking spot.
As my car rolled down
Main Street, families and couples strolled sidewalks looking into windows and
waiting at corners to cross.
A young couple
caught my eye at Fourth Street. I admired her mastery of four-inch heels
(perhaps five); his confident stride in skinny jeans. My romantic streak detected
obvious signs that the blonde and her date were sweet on one another.
At last I parked close
to Nino’s entrance, eager to choose our Dearborn ham and other specialties one
finds inside the mammoth store. Of Southern heritage, I dare not attempt to
bake biscotti for guests and gifts. Mom’s fruitcake, yes. Her recipe yields
three loaves wrapped in brandied cheesecloth: one for my husband and me, and
one each for our two daughters.
Perfectamente, as my high-school Spanish teacher would
say.
In this joyful mood,
I entered the paradise of fruits and vegetables piled high on tables. Praise
God for fresh strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries out of season! And
pineapple to garnish our main course! For red, green, and orange bell peppers!
Concerned Nino’s
might run out of Dearborn boxes, I aimed for the meat department and promptly placed
a ten pounder in my cart. Congenial laughter behind the fish counter drew me to
the Lake Superior whitefish, my husband’s favorite of all fresh and saltwater
food.
“Can I help you?” asked
one of the many fish guys.
“Yes, thank you.
How many whitefish filets do you recommend for two?”
“Well,” he said,
holding up a sample, “whitefish is thin, so I’d say one for each.”
“I’ll take two,
please.”
Forty-five minutes
later, the check-out bagger packed my order including fresh-baked croissants,
Great Northern beans, molasses, and ingredients for Buckeyes (AKA Peanut Butter
Balls) and Magic Pan Cookie Bars. Finally, I unloaded the ham box and whitefish
and paid my bill.
Home from the
northbound Light Show, I unpacked my groceries and discovered the bagger
overlooked our featured dish for Christmas dinner.
“We have it in the
cooler,” customer service said when I called.
Now, for almost
two years, We the People have experienced a bombardment of unprecedented seismic
moments that challenged our equilibrium—our trust in God, neighbor, and government.
Another roundtrip to Nino’s didn’t faze my emotional Richter scale.
Indeed, dear
Reader, our traditional Christmas ham presented another chance to join again fellow
pilgrims in the midst of celebrating this most wonderful season.
Joy to the world!
The Light came to us two thousand years ago. Let Heaven and Earth receive their
King!