Saturday

I leave the apartment early on Saturday mornings to take the subway to Roosevelt Island where I work at a farmer’s market. My boss is Israel Wengerd. At least he’s the one who hired me in 1999. Over 23 years later his son, the little boy who wore boots and a small version Amish hat, follows in his dad’s footsteps, so when Israel is gone, I listen to David. (They are not Amish anymore but Mennonite.)

I love walking along the East River to the market from the subway station in dawn’s early light. The Manhattan skyline awes me at this hour. The red tram might be gliding over the river beside the Queensboro Bridge. Often there’s a tug pushing a barge downriver to the bay.

Usually the Wengerd men are just about finished setting up when I arrive. Mrs. David, Kimbre, might be placing the many price signs behind fruits, vegetables, cheeses, baked goods, coffee, etc., and even freshly ground peanut butter. In the summer, Mrs. Israel, Sarah, will be busy filling pint boxes with berries. The market is beautiful in the early morning, and it’s the best time of day. (Coffee from the deli across the street might have something to do with this.)

In the beginning of my working at the market the other clerk, Mr. Kahn, and I used a scale. We held dollar bills and had change on the table. Who could have foreseen that we’d advance to cash registers and credit card machines and that we’d go from two clerks to seven or more?

Some of the customers from those beginning days have left us for Eternity. Children have grown and are away in college. Poor health and dementia has taken its toll on others. There are so many stories. I ask the father where his handicapped daughter is. He gives me a little smile that tells me he likes it that I’ve acknowledged seeing her and says, “She didn’t want to come out today.” The couple with backpacks and I talk about favorite hiking places. Others ask about my husband, acknowledging his fight with the long tail of COVID . . .

At the end of a workday, I drag back to the subway station. My feet are tired. I only want to be home.

If you’re in the city, stop by the market. Thank you for being interested. The comments are appreciated. And now I need to pack a lunch and check the train schedule for the market tomorrow. Berniece