Winter sits heavy in Des Moines, Iowa. Grey skies, bare trees, and a cold wind blowing across the Urbandale Hy Vee parking lot and down my sweater, turning those last few steps into a run to the finish line. I make it through the front doors just as the sun sets over the concrete. A winner of sorts.
And since everyone gets a prize, I look at the pastries displayed in the case at the front. In the upper right corner are creme-filed long johns. The fulfillment of my greatest wish. Creme-filed long johns are God’s life raft during the dark days of winter.
I’ll take a dozen.
It has been a long day. Twice I sat in cars that wouldn’t start in the cold. When the first car refused to start, I confidently jumped out, grabbed the cables, popped the hood, and looked very smart as I examined what I thought was the battery. After my son told me I was looking at the radiator, I hooked up the cables to the other battery-looking thing and jumped the car. It actually started. A Christmas miracle. Although, when I tried to drive, it died. I jumped it again. It started again. I tried to drive it again. It died again. After careful thought, I decided that when I need to go somewhere, I can start this car, but then actually drive another car. Pretty clever, right?
The other car was my mother-in-law’s hybrid car. It also didn’t start. So, when I opened the hood, I was not surprised to see a lot of plastic containers. And nothing else. My lord, they not only forgot the battery, they forgot the entire engine. Apparently, it runs on pixie dust. I shut the hood.
Which is why I am buying creme-filled long johns and seriously contemplating leaving town. Everyone else has left town for Mexico or the Caribbean or Hawaii. Warm climates to warm the toes on cold Iowa days. Why not? A time-honored tradition of retirees, college students, and post-election depressed Democrats.
But these trips all require a plane ride. I’ve done a lot of plane rides in the last year and I refuse to get on another plane without someone stepping up to answer the obvious questions — Is that kid sitting next to me able to put on my oxygen mask in case of an emergency? If they worry about de-icing the plane before take-off, what about the ice when we are flying through winter clouds? What if the pilot sneezes? Do the seat cushions really float? Do I need to stay awake to keep the pilot awake? Are emergency doors just painted on?
So, for various good reasons, I’m staying in Iowa this winter.
I eventually make my way up to the Hy Vee cashier. She smiles. I have a cart full of groceries and, of course, a dozen creme-filled long johns.
“Hi. Did you find everything all right?” Kris McCarthy says.
I’m slightly embarrassed by my overflowing cart and apologize for slowing her lane down.
McCarthy gives a laugh and then her face settles into her permanent smile lines.
“I love it when people come with full carts. It gives me a chance to talk and get to know people. You know. A chance to visit.”
Whaaat???? A chance to visit?
McCarthy explains: “The bigger the order, the more time you have with a customer. You get to know them. I see a lot of faces that come through every week. Some I get to know by name. I even have a set of Tuesday morning regulars. And there’s also people I see every day.”
Is she kidding?
“I love it. I can build a relationship. It’s a lot of fun. My customers will wait in my line for me. They could easily go in the lane next to me, but they will wait a couple of extra minutes to say hello to me. They know I’ll take care of them. If you take the time, people remember. This makes it great.”
Build relationships at the checkout counter? Why not.
Brene Brown, a professor out of Texas, writes about her observations and studies of people dealing with shame. Yup, she’s a shame researcher of all things, and as a result of thousands of interviews she has a lot to say. One of her primary observations running through several of her books is that the good life requires connection and belonging.
“Connection is why we’re here. We are hardwired to connect with others, it’s what gives purpose and meaning to our lives, and without it there is suffering.”
Aha!
So, for all you snowbirds lying out on the beaches getting roasted during the dog days of Iowa winter, realize that on Douglas Avenue, for no charge and no plane ride, there can be found connection and belonging. You might have an unlimited bar with little umbrella drinks, I have Kris McCarthy, the Hy Vee checkout woman, taking care of all of us.
And let’s not forget the power of creme-filled long johns.
Joe
just a few comments:
I love that HyVee in Urbandale; when I visit my sister who lives within walking distance of that store she asksNow what do you want to do when here? I say visit that HyVee. Now next time I’m down there I may have to get some pastries..in my case it will be plain coffee donuts. and weather permitting that may be soon as I’m heading down for the Des Moines Opera Companies’ Little Soldiers at Camp Dodge!
I also love HyVee up in MN; we have two here in Mankato; both have great clerks and staff who smile and visit when I have a full cart, too. and there are certain clerks whose counters are where I like to check out.
and finally, I am staying here in the frozen north this winter, too, first time in a long time that I’m not heading somewhere warm for winter; I tired of flying last winter as we were all over the country; just became to sick and tired of the lines, tiny seats, lack of space to move at all, and the feeling days were wasted when flying here and there; much prefer auto trips. So today..my auto started right up..it’s in a garage .. I drove to our senior center to watch an old movie with others, watched snow fall and it was lovely. Now it’s good to be home with tiny clear lights sparkling on the freshly fallen snow on the deck railing, sitting inside surrounded by my kitties who spent an afternoon ‘dashing’ around in the snow. and reading your ‘column’ which gave me a comfy at home feeling.
thank you once again!
Well done joe. You never disappoint. I look forward to reading your articles.
Such a lovely surprise! I know Kris McCarthy. Great article.
I love it that you’ve made lemonade out of the lemons of an Iowa winter! Creme-filled long johns help. Remember you can always take the train somewhere!
Isn’t it amazing how far a little genuine kindness goes? I try to remember that when I have encounters with people I may never see again. Even a brief encounter can make or break a person’s day.
Welcome home!!
kb
As usual, Joe, you hit the proverbial ‘nail on the head’. Great writing….
I love Kris McCarthy. I am one of those who will wait in line for her. She is one of the most personable, happy people I know. I love her constant smile.
Candy, I love when you come thru my line or just stop by to say hi. Your smile encourages me to keep smiling.
Well, you were not alone during that time of dead batteries. My daughter was in Ames with a dead battery and her car loaded to come home for Christmas. She had jumper cables (I’m for) and a boyfriend (Obviously against – my default position until she’s thirty), and he said he could give it a try. It didn’t work, which led us to consider things much more serious, but knowing as much about cars as you do, we didn’t have a clue what that could be. Only that it would mean towing and MONEY into a 2007 with a LOT of miles. She said she would call AAA. Hmm… in that weather, I estimated a day on hold and two days after that before they showed. I told her to call her dad and alert him to potential impending car disaster and he said – Do you know what time it is in Switzerland? Oops. Did not get the travel memo. She was on her own.
Fast forward one hour on hold, child in tears, mad at boyfriend, and someone answered at AAA! She gave them her address and twenty MINUTES later she got a call from Iowa’s nicest young man who said – I’m here at your car. Amazed that he arrived so fast, he said – I was just around the corner at another dorm and I’d have to come back anyway. He was a little tired, a little cold, and he’d been doing this since 4am. He was driving a giant truck with cobra-diameter jumper cables, and immediately started her car. He said – Let it run for a while, don’t turn it off, and you might want to get a new battery pretty soon but you’ll get home. Well, I would’ve kissed the AAA guy but she probably kissed the….oh, well.
She made it home and my story is ended. All I really meant to say, Joe, was that you’re not alone in your Iowa winter pain and I think your phrase about creme-filled long johns being God’s life raft may be the best thing you’ve ever written. I digressed.
*insert after “winter pain” , that Kris and the jumper cable guy make Iowa a very special place,
I am one of those who will wait in her line – and she doesn’t even really know me. I do know however, that she is always, without a doubt, friendly and kind and smiles and actually cares. And it shows. 🙂
If I am not in her line, I always stop, wave and say hello. Kris is special.
Agree, she is my favorite! so sweet and friendly. She does visit with you and not that fake trying to make conversation – she is like talking to an old friend
Great job Kris!
Until I recently moved from the Des moines area I was one of those that would wait in line for Kris. I was a regular early bird and she always started my day off on such a great note when I had to complete not the most fun errand of my day. I would be sad when she wasn’t working when I came in. I very much miss Kris and my wonderful Urbandale Hy-Vee