It appears that everyone in a small town talks more, at least that’s how it seems to me. I have more conversations at the deli counter than I ever had in the big, bad city.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved the city and there are still things about it that I miss, but small towns, although microcosms of a large city’s population, the inhabitants are hellbent on holding conversations.

For example, last week I ordered some low-sodium boiled ham (I’m on a health kick. It will probably last a few more weeks.) Anyway, this lady standing next to me hears my order and she asks if I had ever tried Rosemary Ham. Who ever heard of Rosemary Ham? I don’t even remember seeing it in the display case, but sure enough when she orders it, the girl behind the counter doesn’t question her.

Oh, and by the way, I don’t know if they do this in every small town, but ours always offers the customer a taste before slicing off the order. Maybe they think everyone enters the store famished–who knows. So this lady gestures toward me and asks the girl to give me a slice too since I’ve never tasted Rosemary Ham. (Everyone in the deli area hears her request, but none of them looks surprised or for that matter bent-out-of-shape because we are holding things up while I get my all-important taste.)

I obediently take my slice and thank the girl. My new best friend has another piece of interesting news to relate. If I go to the bakery department, they sell the most delicious Rosemary Bread. She advises me to make a sandwich using this bread and to add cheddar cheese and mayo. She assures me that I will be in heaven.

Now, you think this is where I’m going to end by poo-pooing the whole episode don’t you, but I’m here to tell you, the woman knew what she was talking about. I wonder if her name was Rosemary?