At the Costco entrance, I waited while Jerry grabbed one of the massive shopping carts stacked together in rows. The carts often stick together and Jerry has the extraordinary strength to yank them apart like Hercules. That’s why he has the job to get the cart.
Jerry whooshed up beside me with our shopping cart and I flopped my purse and sun hat (necessary item in Arizona) in the cart. As I continued to stroll inside, Jerry stopped with a jerk. Something wrong? Turning toward Jerry, I noticed something odd. The man pushing the cart didn’t look like Jerry. “Oh! I’m sorry,” I said while retrieving my purse and hat from the cart. “You’re not my husband,” I added, laughing at my faux pas. The man, a balding, silver-haired older guy, smiled warmly and said, “No, but I wish I was!”
What? He wishes he was married to me? How sweet is that? And he doesn’t even know about my low-blood sugar moods. Let’s just say if it gets too low, I can’t guarantee the happiness for anyone within my immediate range.

Show of hands, please. How many of you wish you were married to Bronwyn? Uh-huh, uh-huh.

I said, “aw, thank you,” and hurried on. I told Jerry of this mishap when I finally found him inside. Jerry didn’t comment, too Involved in deciding whether to buy the frozen panko shrimp or the marinated mahi mahi.
I loaded the cart with a humongous package of strawberries, then checked out the free samples. A sample man with a kind grandfather face offered me a taste of fizzy iced tea with turmeric. “It’s very healthy for you,” he said handing me a child-sized cup of sparkling gold liquid. His grandfatherly eyes had a glimmer of merriment as he watched me taste. Mmmm. Nothing like getting healthy at Costco. In the next aisle, a sample lady sporting a hairnet handed out microscopic wedge-slices of pizza with pepperoni dots. I wouldn’t exaggerate.
“Did you taste the iced tea with turmeric?” I asked Jerry. “No!” he said with the kind of ‘no’ that means, “you’ve got-ttt to be joking.” I can’t recall now, but I think he may have shot me an expression that involved squinting his eyes and wrinkling his nose as if about to die.
“Well, it wasn’t bad,” I said in defense of turmeric and healthy iced tea.

A lady passing out slices of chicken sausage hollered out loud, “Winner, winner, chicken dinner.” I stopped to try a teeny sausage slice. The sample lady asked the customer standing beside me if she’d like to try two different kinds of chicken sausage. The customer happily accepted. The sample lady handed me one slice sitting in a muffin cup. She made no inquiry if I would like to try two.
As I pondered this snub by the chicken lady, the lights in Costco suddenly flashed off with a roaring sound that wound down to an eerie whine and stopped. Silence and darkness fell upon us. At that moment, I could have grabbed five slices of the chicken sausages. Haha, haha, think you’ll offer me only one, huh? I’ll have five! Maybe six. Now who’s the winner?
As a backup generator turned on a few overhead lights, Jerry and I decided to check out.
At the checkout line, a Costco employee yelled so loud he could be heard in Bangkok,Thailand, “WE CAN’T TAKE DEBIT CARDS. ONLY CASH OR CHECK. THE MACHINES ARE OUT.”
What? Only cash? Or checks? Please explain. What are cash or checks? Customers seemed perplexed and some even distraught. Lines in the dimly-lit Costco grew restless.
To avoid a riot over this cash or check news, a lady from the bakery appeared with a large tray of Costco-baked cookies. She hoped to soothe our nerves with free chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies. I admit, a cookie will make me think twice about rioting.
“It’s okay,” I said to Jerry. “I have the checkbook.” Fortunately for us, I’m old-school and keep the checkbook handy to make notes of all debit purchases.
When our turn to pay came up, the store lit up in a burst. Costco hummed again with electricity. Everyone standing in line applauded the event with jubilant cheers and yahoos. Some people felt deserving of more cookies for the distress caused. The bakery lady continued passing her tray around. Thank goodness I didn’t have to write a check.
As we drove home, I brought up the topic of the man who said he wished he was married to me.
“The man said that as a nice gesture, Bronwyn,” Jerry said in a way that means let’s not get carried away with ourselves. He added, “And I’m sure if that guy’s wife heard him say that, she would have probably hit him.”
Nice gesture or not. A kind word does good like medicine. “How beautiful a day can be when kindness touches it” is a quote I believe in. I always appreciate a kind word from a stranger. Or from anyone.
Now that I think on it, what’s better than a kind word said as a nice gesture? Nothing. Nothing at all…except maybe a few things like freshly-baked cookies and an all-expense paid trip to Hawaii. Yes, cookies and Hawaii would be better than a kind word. But only that. And maybe some Kona coffee to go with the cookies. Some hula lessons and fresh pineapple would be nice also.

Yes, yes. Cookies and a paid-for trip to Hawaii. Much better than a kind word.