Begin the Begin
For years, I have stubbornly resisted becoming a regular customer at one of the specialty food stores in my area--whether Fresh Fields or Whole Foods or Trader Joe's, all of which reputedly sell better, more interesting, more organic, more whatever food than my plain old Giant Food. I've never deeply examined my loyalty to Giant. I just. . . go there.
Last week, I found myself pushing a cart up and down the aisles of my local Giant. As always, music played in the background. As usual, the playlist was straight from the Great American Songbook. I can't tell you if it was a Cole Porter or Duke Ellington or Harry Warren tune that yanked me off auto-pilot, but yanked I was.
I stopped in front of the canned tomatoes and was immediately transported back in time. When I was little, I used to tag along with my mom to the Giant. The store had music playing in the background then, too. Same songs--or nearly so. The one that made the greatest impression on my five-year-old self: "Begin the Beguine." What a sweeping melody! What a funny title, Begin the Begin! My mother told me it was beguine, a type of dance. She loved that song. I loved that song. I loved going grocery shopping with my mother. And now I have realized that I am shopping at the Giant week in and week out, year in and year out, not only because I am too lazy to learn the lay-out of another grocery store, but because I am waiting, waiting, waiting to hear "Begin the Beguine" again, in that particular setting. For now, this: