God's Serendipities

Often God drops neat little surprises into our lives just to delight us. That's how it was with this story:

Marge's School Store

For forty years or so I've been hearing my husband, Bob, tell of his elementary school escapades. He was raised on the south side of Chicago and attended Kohn Elementary School. Near the school was Marge's School Store--a small business selling milk and bread plus candy and pop. And, oh yes, school supplies. Sort of like a 7-11 without the booze.

As you can imagine, the boys from Kohn Elementary hung out a lot at Marge's. My husband gets a far-away look in his eyes when he relates how they used to go to the little store after school or on weekends, buy candy, and sit on the curb planning their fun. Marge and her husband, Frank, owned the store and lived upstairs in the large two-story house that was both home and business. It's a fond memory from my husband's childhood.

Fast forward forty years. Bob and I owned a Hickory Farms Store in a shopping mall in Phoenix (Metro-Center for you local readers). Don't ask me why. It was a crazy investment idea that lasted less than two years.

One day, I tended the store while Bob worked on the books in the back office. I was helping an older couple from nearby Sun City with their purchase, doing the cheese and sausage thing: "Would you like a sample of .... It's our newest cheese, blah, blah, blah." As we chatted I asked them what Arizona residents ask everyone: "Where are you from?"

"Chicago," they answered.
"Oh, my husband is from Chicago. What part?"
"South side."
"What a coincidence. Bob grew up in Roseland, on the south side."
"Oh my," said the woman. "I lived in Roseland, too."
"Wow. Bob went to Kohn Elementary School."
"I know Kohn. I ran a business near there."
"You know, for years he's gone on and on about some place called Marge's School Store where he went to buy candy and pop."
The woman put her hand to her mouth and gasped loudly. "Oh, my," she said, her voice shaking. "I'm Marge!"

Now I gasped, then ran to the back of the store. "Bob, Bob. Come quick. You won't believe this."

Well, you can imagine the scene. I filled Bob in, introducing him to the one and only Marge, from Marge's School Store. Her husband Frank died years before and she was with her second husband, who moved her from frigid Illinois to Arizona.

We all were stunned. My husband animatedly recalled a part of his childhood, telling Marge's husband about his frequent visits to her store. I was amazed and Marge had tears running down her cheeks. After all those years and thousands of miles, two people re-connected.

As they left, Marge shook her head and said softly, "I always thought no one cared--that I really didn't make a difference."

Oh yes, Marge. There are many grown men, and maybe even some women, who remember Marge's School Store. You helped create childhood memories for all of them. That's delightful.