A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Market

It’s hard to believe that on March 3rd, there were no reported cases of the coronavirus in New York State. Just two-and-a-half weeks ago, the big news on the street was the single-use plastic bag ban, which went into effect on the first. I patronized a gourmet market in the fledgling hours of the ban. This particular place was fully prepared with customized paper shopping bags and reusable ones for sale at fifty cents and a dollar.

We adapted to this earth-shaking change to our usual routines without much fuss. Today, I found myself in the very same market, an essential business open for business. The plastic-versus-paper debate was not on shoppers’ minds this morning. Rather, there was an entirely different feel in the air—figuratively speaking, but many people were taking very literal precautions.

En route to this grocery-shopping adventure—it merits the moniker now—a young black woman stopped and offered me a pair of sanitized disposable gloves. She left her house with a spare. I’d hazard a guess that this individual deemed me among the most vulnerable population and thought, in this instance, that I merited a hand. It was a friendly gesture for sure. I thanked her, but didn’t put the gloves on my exposed hands.

Officially, we New Yorkers are permitted to go outside for solitary exercise, dog walking, and necessities like shopping and banking. I see and hear Andrew Cuomo in my sleep. Give him his due: the guy's shown real leadership. It’s the first full day of spring, too, which feels more like June around here. The start of this season of renewal has certainly gotten lost in the coronavirus shuffle. It was only last week that I was planning on buying and planting some pansies. But accessing the garden shop of this place that also sells groceries proved a fool’s errand. I have to tip my hat to the hoarders, who are typically ahead of the curve and the first on line. They leave no roll of toilet paper unturned and probably dumped their stocks, too. Luckily, I’ve found a toilet-paper supplier in a local bodega. I wouldn’t, though, want the word to get out.

I wonder how the take-out food business is doing? I’ve been thinking a lot about the men and women in my neighborhood who—once upon a time—patronized this local diner every single day. I hope they’re getting deliveries. Diners have historically attracted a fair share of sad sacks—and hungry ones at that. Hopefully, when all is clear, their doors will be reopened and the sit-down dining and back-and-forth banter will resume.

Until that day, I will get take-aways—as the Brits would say—and shop in grocery stores. The latter, though, are living laboratories of everything we are told to avoid—cramped spaces, crowds, and social-distancing impossibilities. But thank god for the markets and the people who work in them! My cashier this morning was masked and wearing gloves—like the ones I was given—and she was periodically sanitizing the conveyor belt. I can’t imagine being in that environment all day long.

Finally—and most importantly for my health and well-being—I will be engaging in regular solitary exercise, walking in the great outdoors with social distancing foremost on my mind. This, by the way, doesn’t require me to make too many adjustments. Less has always been better and now even less than that is my rule.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)