Going for Groceries

When people mention grocery shopping in the Connellsville area, most of us mature folk remember the old Pechin’s Market. It was located in Dunbar, Pennsylvania and the collection of rambling add-on buildings spanned generations and a small creek. It was a place where shoppers never knew where a certain product would on display to be sold and the meat was fresh and reasonably priced. It was so reasonably priced that it was mentioned in the Wall Street Journal. People often followed the meat cart on hands and knees as it emerged. Usually two people shopped together as one grabbed the packages of meat, the other person caught it when the package flew through the air, tossed and placed it in the shopping cart where it was guarded. Yes, I said guarded as were many other products. If a person stepped away from their cart and someone saw something they needed, they would take it out and put it in their own cart instead of looking for it. The hubbub over the meat cart was similar to vultures picking clean the bones of some sort of animal, occurring many times before the meat supply reached the display cases. It was a place where it was necessary to shop in pairs. One had to be on the alert at all times riding shotgun on the cart to prevent others from removing things in your cart.

Pechin’s parking lot was just shy of a war zone. The potholes looked like a battlefield with mortar holes holding hands. Cars parked wherever they thought they could squeeze in, often without rhyme or reason. Most often two rows allowed easier access and egress, but sometimes a third row was started trapping some cars. It happened to me. It was summer and I didn’t want what I Bought to thaw or spoil I paced at my car, fuming. When the guy who had started the correct row came out and got in his car, I knew I could escape. I reached into one of my bags and shared a bottle of ketchup with the person who made the third row…on his windshield. I smiled and drove away.

I also wanted to talk about another market, the one that sat across the street from Guiermo Reyes’ barber shop and the Showboat Lounge. The store was called the Market Basket. My mom and dad used to shop there when I was very young, I can hardly remember anything about in other than the outside and the parking lot. I can’t remember going inside even once. It may have been Mom shopped inside while Dad and I remained in the car.