When the Earth Was Still Green

It was the start of winter. But the snow, ice, wind and chill of the storm coming was just the beginning. About a half of a mile away from my now frozen deli, lived the Buccelis. They were Italian immigrants, like many who lived in the area. Newspapers and radio were the only things that left them connected to the rest of the world. When the Earth was still green, no blistering cold, no drafty rooms, the deli was a functioning business full of hospitality and life. At the time, I remember having to hire employees that spoke English, could work a cash register and were able to make a simple ham and cheese sandwich with ‘the works’. It was then that Antonio Bucceli carried the ‘help wanted’ sign into my office.

“You want the help, yes?” he asked looking around nervously at the scattered papers and forms smothering my helpless desk.

    Surprised that anyone paid any attention to these signs, I said “Yes, uh, when can you start?” His lips parted as if he was going to answer me, but the howling wind outside stopped him. I held up a finger to him.

    “One sec.,” I said. Mr. Bucceli and I stumbled out of my cluttered office. Everyone was closely huddled around a small table in the deli. On the table was a radio, kindly donated by one of the customers.

    Suddenly, a woman entered the deli. She struggled with the door and I ran to help her. Together we pushed the frozen door open and she scurried in.

    “Thank you,” she said, embarrassed by her lack of strength. Beneath her coat, snuggled in her scarf was a baby just a few months old. I could tell the child was tired. She then ran to her husband, the young man who came into my office with the ’help wanted’ sign.

    “Antonio,” she cried. She spoke to him in Italian and I couldn’t understand what they were saying. He spoke back to her in a worried, but strong voice. The young couple bundled the baby back up.

    “You’re leaving?” I asked, knowing that we were probably going to be snowed in. I was worried.

“I am sorry, Sir, but the baby.” He said pleadingly. “She needs care.”

    “I understand,” I said. Even though I really didn’t understand.

    “Okay, but you’ll never make it,” said Jim. He was an employee I’ve known since the Deli’s Grand Opening who had always been a pessimist, but honest. It’s a wonder I hadn’t fired him yet. I shot him a look.

    “Sorry,” he said, shamefully as he continued to heat up another round of hot chocolate for the customers.

“    Good Luck,” I said. They waved, smiled and began to tread through the snow. Mr. Bucceli, now holding his daughter, allowed Mrs. Bucceli to warm her hands in her muff. This was the last I saw or heard of them. A touching memorial was held for them, and for those who lost their lives in this horrible natural disaster. We were in that Deli for five days, more fortunate because we had food, heat and shelter. Now, looking back on this day, I think to myself, “What if I had stopped them? What if they had made it?”