I live in a small town. The store is in a slightly larger town. My world revolves around these two towns, wich have a combined population of just over 10,000. Sure, there are times I long to be able to order dinner to be delivered, or even have lunch delivered to the store, but these are minor inconveniences compared with living among my customers.
Perhaps I’m feeling old this spring as too many of our teen customers have driven themselves to the store. They come in proudly swinging car keys on their finger and then they tell me where they’re going to college. These are kids who used to sit on the floor of the old store and grunt. Yes, my favorite grunter is off to college and is responsible for taking up two parking spaces every time she comes to the store. For every kid going to college, there are new kids and families we’re getting know since our move to Shelburne.
Shelburne’s population is more than double that of Charlotte’s, where the store was for 10 years before we moved three years ago. So we’re talking just over 7,000 people, and some days it feels like I know them all. I’ve taken to carrying a small notebook with me wherever I go. Here’s what happened yesterday just going about my day. On my way to work I stopped at Village Wine and Coffee across the street from the store. I go there every day. They have a drink named after me, The Josie; a double shot iced skim latte (an absolutely fabulous drink). If it’s below 10 degrees I get a hot Josie, and the folks behind the counter *know* this.
So, I’m waiting for my drink and in succession three people come up to me. "Do you have the Updike poetry book?" "Yes." "Are you sure?" Well, I haven’t actually had my coffee, but we had the Updike when I closed last night. Out comes the notebook. Updike for Sheldon. Someone else asks if new Percy Jackson is out yet and could I save one. I make another note: Olympians for Reg. Then Gail comes over and tells me she’s decided to order that bird book for her nephew after all. She doesn’t remember the title, but I do, I think. I make another note. I’ve been out and about less than five minutes and I’ve already taken three special orders.
Some friends and I went to dinner last night. We were in a booth and a friend stopped to chat on her way to her table. We asked how her niece was doing in her battle with cancer. And for the first time in months, the news was good. Immediately, Elizabeth and I recommended some books for her to read to keep her spirits buoyed. I made a note to set them aside.
A family of new customers was three tables away. The older girl, no more than seven, shyly caught my eye and then whispered to her mother, "It’s the Flying Pig lady." And then everyone waved hello. It was cute. Although after 13 years, sometimes I tire of being called "the Flying Pig Lady." There are times when I’m weary, that I wished we called the store the Lovely Gazelle. "Oh look, it’s the Lovely Gazelle lady." Sounds so much prettier than the Flying Pig Lady.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Josie, what a lovely piece. I suppose after 13 years, as you say, the name could lose some charm in your ears, but it certainly made me smile. And much better, say, than Village Wine and Coffee lady, for instance.
One thing I haven’t solved is remembering all the orders I take from fellow swimmers in the pool before work. Perhaps the lifeguards could be induced to take dictation if I left my notebook with them.
Lovely small town view, we moved back to Washington, NC (10,000) from Lexington, KY after 20 years there. After that long absence we were still remembered. Or maybe it was our 5 kids they remebered.
Lovely small town view, we moved back to Washington, NC (10,000) from Lexington, KY after 20 years there. After that long absence we were still remembered. Or maybe it was our 5 kids they remebered.
Josie, what a great post! It sounds like you’re a genuine superstar. That’s the way it should be.
What a lovely glimpse into your world and your work! I live in St. Paul, which isn’t a small town, but it feels like it at times. My drycleaner, Joel, knows me after years of patronage. The friendly folks at the locally-owned coffee shop across the street from the cleaner’s know my son and call out his name when we enter. A server at a local restaurant knows my husband, though she’s given him a new name and he never bothered to correct her. It’s all part of the charm.
I know exactly what you mean. A native East-Coaster formerly living on Cape Cod, we are now living on the island community of Ketchikan in SE Alaska where I write children’s books. It’s nearly impossible to walk through town without running into people you know and having great conversations. There are few big name stores, but many big-hearted people, and I wouldn’t have it any other way either. Keep the Pig Flying!
Thanks for sharing that little slice of small town bookselling. I envy your situation. I’m going to get myself a little notebook to carry around, too; as soon as I open a little bookstore in a little New England town.
Josie, I went to school at St. Michael’s College so I love reading your blog. I miss Burlington. The next time I go back to visit I will definitely check out your store. I love your blog! Best, Amanda
This sounds like a most perfect day. I sit in wonder of the kids I once sat reading to and writing with, who now swing their car keys from their index fingers, too. They have always had so much to teach.