The Santa Barbara Farmer’s Market


My father was a fruit man, his brother was a fruit man, his grandfather was a fruit man, his cousin, his uncle and who knows how many other Tulins were fruit men.  So as I was writing about the Santa Barbara Farmer’s Market I was thinking about my family.  I was thinking about their produce business and what a difficult job it was.  My father used to work 70 hours a week and would wake up at 2am to get his produce at the Food Distribution Center in Philly and then drive over 100 miles to his food store in Hazleton, PA.

I remember odd things about working for my father.  I remember tossing watermelons from a truck.  I remember carrying a 100 pound sack of potatoes on my back.  I remember being at the register and actually counting out change because they didn’t have registers that gave out change.  I remember being on the meat slicer and cutting cold cuts and talking to the customers about all kinds of things from Marxism to nose jobs.  I met so many unusual people at my father’s store and most were friendly and nice to me.  I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

The Santa Barbara Farmer’s Market story is for you TULINS, enjoy it in the heavens.


One thought on “The Santa Barbara Farmer’s Market

  1. Memories are wonderful hurtful at times, and yet beautiful to remember because that,s all ,you have and no wouldn’t trade them for the world

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