I don't leave the house very often; with my agoraphobia, I just don't feel safe doing so. Yesterday being Friday the Thirteenth, I wasn't going to be comfortable no matter where I was, and my gimp hip wasn't bothering me too much, so Blondie suggested it would be a good day to stockpile some groceries. I drove, and Marie, our long-haired German Shepherd, provided navigation.

The cows were rearranged at Conestoga Valley Dairy, and there was a pretty lady, mostly black, just inside the door. Most of their cows are mostly white. Mervin told me that one scared him when she was younger. He was in a field at the back of the farm, and he thought she was going to charge. He hit her in the nose, he said, and she changed her mind.

Cows don't normally charge like bulls do (although it isn't a good idea to get between any mother and her baby.) I remember when I was 4 or so, a heifer jumped the fence and loped after us. my sister (then 16) who was carrying Little Brudder (age 2) and had my hand as I ran beside her. Preschoolers can be expected to be scared of anything unusual, and a heifer jumping the fence is unusual, but shouldn't a 16-year-old girl know better? She says these days that she can't imagine why she got scared.

Trixie Stood Guard

There was a new dog "guarding" the entrance of the barn, a little thing that was only about 5 or 10 pounds. Trixie shied away when I bent down to pet her. I guess she isn't worth much yet as a guard dog. I told Trixie that she needed to keep people out of the barn. It wouldn't do if someone gave Swine Flu to the cattle; they'd oink instead of moo. But Trixie didn't seem to understand. Ordinarily, Marie would have laughed at such a joke, but when I got back in the van, I repeated it to her, and she decided I wasn't showing a fellow dog enough respect. Marie is getting uppity these days.

Martin's roadside stand on Martindale road had green peppers 4 for a buck, but they were awfully small. They had cabbage for 50c a head, but it had some worm holes underneath. OK deals both, but nothing to blog about, I suppose. They had butternut squash 3 for a buck, though, and they were nice squash, a really nice price. They had bags of turnips for $1.50, too, and that was a nice price, but I haven't had the energy to cook much lately, and Blondie doesn't use turnips when she makes vegetable soup like I do.

One of the things I enjoy most about shopping at "used grocery" stores is the surprise bargains factor. The old Leola Sharp Shopper was small and crowded, but I always found some great deals. The new store is huge, spacious, and offers a lot more variety, but fewer bargains. I think people are more willing to shop at the new store, and the true bargains disappear quickly.

Surprises and Bargains

They had some nice deals yesterday, though. Six pounds of cooked bratwurst for $6. One-pound Hatfield country sausage - long sausage like kielbasa - for 99c. Quart mason jars of Del Monte apricots for 99c. Blondie needed tomatoes, and all we could find was crushed and pureed 'maters. Finally, we found some Progresso whole canned tomatoes - we originally thought it was soup.

The biggest surprise, though, was the music being played over the intercom. They had a CD player at the old store, and I assume they're doing the same thing at the new store. They always played instrumental music at the old store, covers by artists I've never heard of, many of the songs being inspirational. The Leola/Ephrata tends to be a hotbed of fundamental christianity, and I don't know if Dennis Sharp and his wife are devout, or just their employees.

But I found myself singing silently along with the music, and was surprised because the song was Summertime. I think of that as being a Duke Ellington song, although Sam Cooke may have recorded it first. I don't know if you'd recognize it from just the name. It's a lullaby that goes "Summertime, and the living is easy. Fish are jumping and the cotton is high. Your daddy's rich and your mama's good-looking. Hush, little baby don't you cry." In any case, it's thought of as black music - and the song that followed was "Bess, you is my woman now", which is also from "Porgy and Bess". It was the Gershwins who wrote the music for "Porgy and Bess", but the characters in that musical were black residents of Catfish Row in the Charleston, South Carolina of the 1920s.

Bess, You Is My Woman Now

Mama had an LP of Porgy and Bess, but she never played it. What she did do was to play those songs on the piano or on the organ. I loved those songs, and didn't know the names of the songs, or where they came from, or the lyrics, until after Mama was dead, and I played the album one day. I think it's probably my favorite of all broadway musicals, and yet I've never hear those songs on the radio and this may be the first time I've heard it as "elevator music", so my opinion must be in the minority.

And it especially struck me as odd that I'd hear it there. Leola is awfully Wonder Bread, and while Porgy and Bess love each other intensely, Catfish Row residents were considered reprobates, and in the Roaring 20s, doubly so. I kinda identify with Porgy, because he's a cripple. He loves the beautiful Bess and tries to rescue her from the clutches of Crown, her highly violent boyfriend, and from Sportin' Life, a drug dealer.

Maybe it's the Obama effect. We're all becoming the same race. Now, if crips and gimps could start to get some respect (and, Marie adds, dogs), we'd have something.

Other Bloggers On Related Topics:
dairy cows - dogs - Duke Ellington - Friday the 13th - George Gershwin - Ira Gershwin - Porgy & Bess - Sam Cooke