Coming Home to Blackstone Street

April 11th, 2009 by Harrumpher Leave a reply »

strawbs.jpgToday for the first time in nine weeks, I was back at Haymarket, sort of. A few vendors greeted me and ask where I’d been. That’s not terribly surprising after 29 years of nearly weekly visits.

Today’s ritual renewal took help though, from my wife and our 15 year old. Normally I would have driven and parked at start-at-9:30-a.m. meters a quarter mile away. That 440 each way would have been a trek with my healing broken leg and cane. Instead, my wife drove and stopped on Union Street so I could do my do. My lad acted as Sherpa, so I would keep my balance on the very crooked street while he shouldered the vegetative goodies.

Moreover, I’ll just mention in passing that the underlying savings of Haymarket disappeared. We had breakfast at a Dorchester diner, at $26 with tip. So, while I got ripe and beautiful fruits and vegetables, I didn’t do it on my usual cheapo tab.

Today only that was okay. I was back in the gatherer mode. I knew exactly what would be in the fridge and food bowls, so I planned meals in my head as I shopped.

I consider myself back on Blackstone Street and won’t dwell on any qualifications.

So, the U-shaped open-air market is hard to navigate with only one good leg. There are many dips, frost heaves and broken places in the sidewalk. Many customers walk like soldiers on parade, keeping their eyes on the stall displays and not on such obstacles as a slow-moving thumper with a cane. A few times, I called out, “Heads up,” to avoid a collision. That worked fine for all concerned.

I don’t know when I’ll be able to take the car or bike to the Haymarket. It’s likely three and maybe more months before I’d be able to walk the 0.9 miles to the subway and manage the down/up and distance to the market. I’ve started though.

One vendor, Sal, who welcomed me back asked and said what I was thinking — how hard it must be to miss the Haymarket after all those years. He has that right.

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One Response

  1. Robin Edgar says:

    Happy Easter Of Your Understanding Harrumpher.

    Keep harrumphing away!

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