Midtown Farmers’ Market: Where the Community Gathers
A large gentleman, at once imposing and charming, nods at us. “Welcome to Midtown. Can I help you find something?”
I say, “I’m guessing you’re the manager.”
His warm grin draws me in. “Naw, I’m just taking a break from my booth. But tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll help you find it. Somebody here is bound to have it.”
He gives me a run-down of all his neighbors’ booths—produce, cheese, meat, birdhouses, jewelry. That’s the good thing about the Midtown Market, he promises. They have it all—yet he still hasn’t given the slightest mention of his own booth. When I question him about that, he grins again. “We just take care of each other here. That’s what community does.”
At my insistence, he guide me to his booth, where I buy granola mix from his partner. At other booths I buy a sack full of fresh veggies and a stunning fused glass barette for my hair. I live ten miles away from the Midtown Farmers’ Market, but that won’t stop me from returning many, many times.