The Slice: Shopping for the future, guided by the past

It’s hard to say exactly when it starts.

I suppose it kicks in for different people at different times.

But soon, quite soon, one of daily life’s mundane chores will undergo its annual transformation. Grocery shopping will change from routine to remarkable.

That’s because the holidays, despite the wall-to-wall blitz of marketing and commercial overkill, still have emotional power. And selecting food items to serve loved ones and friends prompts the sort of joyful anticipation that cannot be washed away by a tidal wave of crass consumerism.

A bag of pearl onions becomes a vision of someone’s smile.

Handling a sweet potato feels like holding a tradition.

Sure the stores will get insane in a couple of weeks. We’ll all complain. “It was hand-to-hand in there,” we say in my family, as if describing close-quarters combat.

But for some of us, the crowded aisles and long lines at the registers almost feel like sharing. At least on some subliminal level.

Families are different. Friendships vary in tone. But all those people piling into the store have something in common with you. They dream their gatherings will be happy and perhaps live on in sweet memories for years and years.

It’s not too much to ask. Even if the holidays have sometimes been disappointing, the prospect of a new round of celebrations gives us hope that this year will find us at our best.

So we push the shopping carts and consult our lists. We phone home. “Did you mean regular asparagus or pickled asparagus?”

And because we are fortunate enough to be able to afford it, we will load up for a festive feast. “What does your grandmother like to drink?”

It’s funny what can come to mind in a grocery store. Some pre-holiday thoughts nudge you toward a smile. Others make you wince.

But if you see someone over by the canned vegetables looking lost and adrift, it could be that he or she is all right. Maybe that person is just remembering someone who won’t be at the Thanksgiving dinner this year. Maybe that person is remembering someone who is gone.

Remembering how she always insisted on having that kind of cranberry that slipped out of the can as if dumped from a mold. Even though nobody really liked it.

Every year.

Better get a couple of cans.

Today’s Slice question: What kitchen aromas get the attention of your pets?

Write The Slice at P. O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210; call (509) 459-5470; email pault@spokesman.com. Do you know how to tie a bow tie?