State Market

Last weekend when I chose Cracker Jack at Vic’s Grocery I did so out of nostalgia for the market of my childhood, the Cascade Market on Aurora Avenue in Seattle. The Cascade Market was a family market originally owned by my grandfather Albert and his brothers in-law. My dad grew up in that market and when my grandfather retired he took it over with his cousins Paul and Irving. Unlike his cousins who made their living at the market my dad had a regular job as an elementary school principal. After school and on weekends he would work at the market. It no longer sold produce and groceries as in the earlier days but cut flowers.


I loved to visit the market because I liked the old wooden floors, the sort of comfy chair by the wood stove, the old signs, the smell of the walk-in full of flowers and almost everything else including the free candy, gum and pop. Sometimes we would ask if could ask if we could have sometime and sometimes we would just take it. I remember eating Cracker Jack out of the small cardboard box it used to come in rather than the cellophane bag it comes in now. The Cascade Market wasn’t as busy as in the old days although they had their hectic times on holidays like Mother’s Day and Easter. Sometimes the Cracker Jack or other candy was stale from sitting.


The shelves full of old cans were dusty and I used to make myself useful dusting them with an old feather duster or helping sweep the back where my dad prepped the flowers. The stump of wood and the ax used to chop the ends off the flowers fascinated me. When I was a little older I would sometimes get up early with my dad and go the flower market to buy the flowers. We would have breakfast at Denny’s first. Spending the entire day there could be challenging. I looked forward to making toasted tuna fish sandwiches on the stove and sitting by the fire eating it. I would pick out things to eat during the day just to keep from getting bored. I remember trying to use the old cash register to ring out customers. One day I got completely flustered trying to count back somebody’s change. I don’t think there is single day when I’m at the register at work now that I don’t think back to that moment.


The one thing I didn’t like about the Cascade Market was the bathroom. It was painted a sickening green color, smelled like pee and had off color graffiti on the walls. I think most old markets are like that—they are places that people spend a lot of time and they have to amuse themselves as best they can during long, boring hours. I was reminded of that shady element when Vic and I went to visit State Market on 12th and Geary. There were two chatty and pleasant Chinese women behind the counter as we wandered in. As we made our way toward the back so I could chose a beer I noticed a grimy curtain with an “Adults Only Video” sign on it. It seemed so bizarre—I wondered who would pull back the curtain to choose a video. I was so flustered that I chose the same beer that I bought at Vic’s Grocery.

Vic and I wandered a bit more. The shelves were neatly arranged and full for the most part but mostly with cheap wine and ramen. I was looking for a treat I thought Vida would like and picked a strawberry “Yan Yan” which is cookie sticks in a cylinder that you can dip into a frosting like concoction. I asked Vic what he wanted and he said he wanted a “Cutie” which his way of saying an ice cream sandwich after the Tofutti Cuties we often have. I opened the case and lifted him up to pick one out. We paid for our stuff and got back in the car. I unwrapped Victor’s ice cream and he started eating it as we pulled out. A few seconds later he hands the ice cream back to me. It turns out that it is a strawberry ice cream sandwich and he said that he wanted “a blue one” instead. I know he meant vanilla but I’m not sure where “blue one” came from since it had the same blue packaging as a regular ice cream sandwich. Luckily he wasn’t very attached and gave it up without throwing a fit.

Vic’s snack—ice cream sandwich My snack—Yan Yan cookies Beer of the Day—Bud Light 16 oz.