While there have been stretches I have missed the Co-op ACUTELY, Saturdays are not one of those times.

Especially this particular Saturday, the second one of October.

Because today, just like the second Saturdays of Octobers for decades past, is Open House.

It is madness, pure & simple. Unaltered mayhem & chaos & all of the things I seek to avoid in my quiet existence.

There are running kids and raffle ticket bickerers, bargain shoppers and lounging sales reps, dogs (of both hot and furry varieties) and drunks, locals & tourists, friends & competition. There are retired Co-op employees chatting over beef & grain prices, rain or lack thereof with the farmers who tenaciously hang on. The wives eating popcorn while surreptitiously looking at clothes her husband will tell her to buy but hope she doesn’t, their children chasing each other around the racks & down the aisles, a drippy ice cream in one hand & a hot dog smothered in ketchup in the other.

I would be there, amongst them, taking pictures, directing them to the bathroom, shouting a price or item number across the store before heading outside to the microphone to award some lucky people a door prize. And hopefully I would be wearing a smile for you.

Some of my former co-workers were sweet enough to formally invite me, so I wouldn’t miss the sales & general overall merriment. While I appreciated the gesture, I simultaneously shuddered & laughed.

I hope my Co-op family is making the most of it, chatting up familiar faces & totalling some good sales…but I wouldn’t be you for all the apple butter in Dixie. I’m home, decorating the house in autumn attire, preparing to scream my guts out for the boys in orange. Go Vols!!!