My earliest memories of my family grocery stores are vivid colors and a symphony of sounds. Cans clanging into carts. A succession of feet shuffling along polished floors. The enthusiastic greetings of one relative to another as each assesses the firmness of peaches, neighbors surprised to see each other by the canned olives, friends reuniting beside boxes of macaroni and cheese.

As a child, I recognized the power of my family’s grocery stores but I didn’t necessarily put it into words. I knew inherently that it was not just a place to buy food, to feed families, to literally sustain life; it was a place where reunions happened spontaneously and in unexpected moments and old friends shared stories as they shopped.

I think I was 12 in my earliest memory of walking through the store with my grandfather. Grandpa considered customers to be friends – he’d recognize a shopper and offer a kiss on the cheek in greeting. They readily accepted, happy as they were to be noticed by Mr. Hiller. Grandpa asked about their families and gave cookies to every child he saw. I grew up thinking Hiller’s grocery stores were backyard fences, proverbial community centers.

It was a magical experience, too. Periodically, I’d venture into the store with Grandpa or Dad and watch the transformation of entire aisles to meet the season’s demand– holidays coming, harvests in the works and other celebrated, customary occasions. The transformation of an entire aisle or section, floor space moved from everyday products into a focused display of meaning that each customer anticipated with great appreciation.

It was like the community counted my family’s stores as a common ground for relationships and observances. The important moments in their lives transmitted during weekly grocery excursions. Reunions and touchstones. All at Hiller’s.

That’s a big weight to carry and one that I hope to inherit with grace. As I step into the company that was my childhood landscape, I recognize the responsibility of this legacy, an expected yet precious gift. The dreams of generations infused with spirit and drive of the men who made my life possible – and I hold this incredible opportunity like the most delicate flower in my hands, now that I’ve assumed the role of Vice-President.

Ubiquitous smiles. Full-voice laughter. Conversational snippets saturated with hope and interest – How is the family doing? Please send my regards.

Women squeezing melons to determine ripeness, palming avocados. Men moseying through aisles alongside wives, approaching the butcher counter with expectation and delight. Carts gradually filling with cereal boxes and salad dressings and juices and meat. The tchk-a-tchk of cart wheels turning against the floor. Happy sounds of recognition and even happier at being noticed. So much more than a grocery store.

When I was a child, I saw Hiller’s as a special place where connections were renewed and where people went to find the ones they loved. I am honored to be a part of this generational chain of proffering community, of exacting connection.

See you at Hiller’s.