We are at an exciting time for Dad’s blog. With just 50 new visitors he will surpass 2,000 unique readers! We have a new story coming very soon, but since this story about the small town grocer was posted in the blog’s infancy, we are hoping more folks will take a minute to read it and comment and share. Please use the social media buttons at the bottom of the story. Thanks everyone!! We are thankful for your interest and enthusiasm!
Harry Taylor looked the part of an old-fashioned grocer. About five feet ten, he was bald except for a tuft of hair hanging over his forehead. He wore the same kinds of clothes every day: a gray or white long-sleeved dress shirt, a butcher’s apron embossed with “America’s Cup Coffee,” and a black leather bow tie. In the corner of his mouth, he clinched a King Edward cigar, seldom smoked but often chewed.
Harry looked comfortable, standing behind the meat counter grinding lean beef or greeting customers in the produce department, whether they were rich or poor, young or old. With some, he passed the time of day; with others, he’d share a story. It was an era, long gone, when everyone knew his grocer, and he knew his customers. As they talked, he maintained eye contact with them while arranging bright red tomatoes in perfect rows or removing bruised…
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