My wife came home from her daily grocery outing this morning and uttered a bewilderment as she leaned on her shoulder in the frame of the back door to the house before bundling into the kitchen. She said that to complete her shopping list she had to visit four different grocers. At one the produce shelves were empty, at another the meat shelves were empty, and so on. Not sparse, but empty.
Being the retired hunter in our household, I pretended nonchalance. I could still kill a moose barehanded, if I had to, after all. “Someone should tell Joe Biden,” I quipped.
Stumble Town, by the way, is the actual colloquial name of the old South Norfolk neighborhood where my Goddess of Gathering grew up. You could say the community was poor or backward in some ways (if you wanted to be unkind to good people) but even in Stumble Town 50 years ago an empty grocery shelf would have shocked everyone. There would have been gossip, maybe even a conspiracy theory or two.
My wife and I have sure seen hard times in our life together, but we have never seen any slack in the abundance around us. Until now.
It makes you wonder.