"Lou Strauss, Grocer"

As part of a family, it was almost a duty to help one another by one means or another. One of the ways I was able to contribute to the family was to help out at my Uncle Lou's grocery store. This was before the supermarkets made their debut. "Lou Strauss, Grocer" was the proud name that was emblazoned on the sign over the store's entrance. One might consider the store a neighborhood store, although it was located on a main street (away from downtown). There were other stores on the block: grocery stores, tailors, dry cleaners, pharmacies, a restaurant/bar, a hardware store....

Some of my duties included waiting on customers, cleaning the dust off the top of cans on the shelf, replenishing stock, helping deliver groceries, cleaning the toilet bowl, taking grocery orders over the phone for later delivery, and sweeping out the store and the sidewalk in front.

Waiting on customers was an art. My Uncle Lou did not like to wait on some customers -- that kind of taxed his patience. I would have the "honor" of waiting on those customers. I guess I was more tolerant. One of the customers was an elderly Jewish lady who spoke little or no English. My Uncle Lou said, "All you have to know is the phrase, 'Voss nacht vilter?' which was supposed to mean, "What comes next?" This little old lady (with her auburn wig) would look at me like I didn't know what I was talking about when I uttered that statement. Anyway, she would point towards different objects that she needed and we fumbled our way through the situation somewhat successfully.

Adding up the cost of the items that were purchased was not done on an adding machine or a cash register; it was done by pencil on a paper bag. The addition was done by the person waiting on the customer -- in this case, me. Each item was carefully put aside on the counter after the price was recorded on the paper bag. The sum was then calculated and recorded on the paper bag. Then the amount was punched into the round keys of the cash register. The handle on the side of the cash register was then turned until the cash drawer opened. There was no indication, on the register, how much change was to be given back -- all that was done in my head.

One of the things I liked to do was grind coffee in the coffee grinder and smell the aroma. Another aroma I found tantalizing was the smell of the dill pickles my uncle used to make. I could lift the cover of the container and smell the spices combined in the mix. My salivary glands reacted to this pleasure and I could hardly wait to bite into a succulent kosher dill.

Delivery of the groceries: when people phoned in their order I would write the items on an order pad. Then, the order would be assembled on the back counter. The items were then put into a cardboard box. (These boxes were from canned goods that had been emptied out and put on shelves.) The ordered items were carefully loaded into the box so that the softer items were always put on top. The boxes for all the orders were then loaded onto a panel truck and delivered to the customer. My Uncle Milton (Uncle Lou's brother, as well as my father's brother -- one more brother was Uncle Aaron) also worked in the store, until he went into the Navy in WWII. Uncle Milton drove the panel truck and I would hoist the box of groceries on my shoulder and deliver the box to the customer. Usually, I would get a tip. A 25-cent tip was considered generous. My salary, by the way, was $10/week. I once got a raise to $12/week.

One of the chores I really did not like to perform was bringing cases of soft drinks from the storage basement up the stairs to the main store. The cases were made of wood and were heavy. Today, most of the storage is at ground level -- and hand dollies can be used more efficiently.

Being a family-run store, my Aunt Lil (Milton's wife) and sometimes her sister Jeanette would help out in the store. When my Uncle Lou married my Aunt Sally and went on a honeymoon, I was put in charge of the store -- still a teenager. My Aunt Lil was also in the store with me. By this time we had hired another teenager to help out. His name was Howie. Howie could now go down to the basement and carry up the stairs those dreaded soda pop wooden containers.

My uncle always had a cat in the store to keep the mice away. One time, the cat had kittens and was very protective of the kittens. A lady came in the store with her snippy, snappy dachshund. The cat took one look at the dog and leapt on the dog's back, digging in her claws. The dog was yelping and yipping so I thought I'd better disengage the two. I grabbed the cat to pull it off the dog's back -- and what did I get for my effort -- a cat's fang through my thumbnail into the flesh of my thumb. Very painful -- but the dog survived -- and so did I. From then on we made sure the cat was behind closed doors whenever the dog came in sight.

One of the more distasteful tasks was delivering the trash to the landfill (the dump). All vegetable cut-offs were stored outside in crates -- probably the crates the oranges and grapefruits came in. Once a week I would load the crates into the pick up truck and off to the dump we would go. The dump was the smelliest, most fly-infested place you would ever not want to be near. However, we unloaded the garbage as quickly as possible and got out of there in a hurry.

There were a lot of lessons to be learned while I was working at the grocery store. Salesmanship was one of them. One day a salesman came in with a new product similar to Bab-o or Comet or one of the cleaners. He used the cleaner on the top of the coffee grinder and it shined it right up. We kept a display of the cleaner on the counter -- so when a customer came in we would do the same pitch and actually sold some of this new product.

Sign painting on the store's front window was an art form. My Uncle Lou would mix up some Bon Ami and water and with a paint brush use the mixture to paint on the window the latest specials of the day.

The most important lesson to be learned in the store environment was the fact that personal attention was given to every customer. The store really wasn't large enough to allow customers to roam the aisles, so each customer received personal attention: rare nowadays in a supermarket. How times have changed.

The Warm Season

My favorite method for recalling Christmas memories is using a technique I learned while acting called "sense memory." That is, applying a feeling or emotion one has experienced in the past to a situation in the present. Try, with me, to recapture some of those feelings of Christmases past, when we, as children, enjoyed the winter -- before, as adults, our backs reflected pains of shoveling snow, or our minds rebelled at the thought of putting chains on our tires, or even driving on the icy roads, or we complained about putting on our galoshes (with buckles or zippers), heavy coats, scarves, ear muffs (remember those?), gloves, and hats... before we moved down to Florida to escape.

It is said, "We can never go back," and it's true. Things are never the same, except in our memories.

Remember walking to school through snow drifts that were up to our waists? (The easy way, of course, would have been to walk on the sidewalks, reasonably cleared off by horse-drawn wooden plows.) And remember, after arriving home from school, coming in the house with our clothes all wet from tumbling in the snow? I can recall wringing my gloves out, they were so wet, then putting them on the radiator. (Remember those cast-iron radiators?) The next day, the gloves would be stiff as a board. And how our hands would ache from the cold -- we used to run cold water from the faucet over them to thaw out.

And those impractical woolen mittens that, after being used to make snowballs, would have clumps of snow clinging to them... can you see them? Snowmen, snow forts, ice-skating, the masses of youngsters waiting, the masses of youngsters waiting for the ponds to freeze over with a layer thick enough to support all the enjoyment... then going to the adjoining lodge to drink hot chocolate... and the sounds of ice skate blades on the wooden floor of the lodge -- I can hear them.

The senses recall the taste and feel of icicles snapped from a low hanging eave. Remember how carefully you had to crack them off so they would remain intact?

I can remember walking through the cold winter air, breathing its purity, and looking at the stars, on my way to my favorite hill for some sleigh riding, never minding the long walk up the hill because of the thought of the thrilling ride going down, the air turning our faces a healthy pink.

And Christmas -- Christmas had a meaning for me then similar to today. Not having a Christian background, Christmas for me was vacation from school, the fun of winter, and presents. I liked to walk down the sidewalk at night and look at the lights of the Christmas trees and their reflections in the snow. It was kind of a lonely feeling, yet warm. And today, with children -- my children -- the fun of giving them fun, Christmas is nice.