Canzano: A football season and a breath of fresh air
Canzano: A football season and a breath of fresh air
He said: "I don't think I'll be around much longer."
Charles is a checker at my local grocery store. When I walk through the doors, I crane my neck to see if he’s working. If his line is longer than others, I’ll still pick it. I’ll wait. I enjoy the guy and know I’m not alone. I’ve watched others refuse to change lines when another cashier arrives and announces: “I’ll take the next customer.”
A couple of weeks ago I asked Charles how he was doing. “Not good,” he said. “My lungs are bad. But the good news is they’re going to let me work with an oxygen tank.”
I thought he was joking. Until, I walked into the store on Tuesday evening and saw a small tank sitting beside him and a thin rubber tube draped ear to ear, leading into his nose.
I’ve never asked Charles how old he is, but I’ve got him late 50s or early 60s. He’s built like a former small-college linebacker — maybe six feet tall, stocky, with broad shoulders. He wears glasses, has a head of mussy brown hair, and hunches over while he’s sliding your groceries across the scanner.
Charles is intelligent, well-read, and a big college sports fan. I like his brain and passion for sports. Over the years, he’s shared his thoughts on the Pac-12’s troubles, and the rise of Oregon football, and talked about his childhood, which he once described as “a cruel tale.”
Our encounters in the last decade have typically come while I’m buying a box of spaghetti, a pound of hot Italian sausage, some fresh tomatoes, and a can of tomato sauce or something else. On Tuesday night, my middle daughter and I were on a sugar kick. We had ice cream, cookies, and a birthday cake for Anna on the conveyor belt.
It struck me as we waited that Charles knows my family’s habits, quirks, and tastes better than just about anyone. My encounters with him have come in a series of 90-second bursts, and yet, I consider the guy a family friend. Is that strange? But I’ll bet everyone who shops there does.
This week, I watched my friend suck oxygen from a tube. As he checked out the customer in front of me in line, he periodically closed his mouth and took a hit from his nostrils. I wondered for a half-second why he wouldn’t be resting at home, on a medical leave. But then realized that putting on the store apron and entertaining customers for as long as he can do it probably feels as warm to him as being just about anywhere.
When it was my turn, Charles and I talked about everything but that blasted oxygen tank. He told me the Ducks are going to have a terrific time in the Big Ten. He said he was concerned about the future of Oregon State and Washington State, lamenting that those two universities didn’t do enough in the last 20 years to avoid their current predicament. It’s not over for the Pac-12, totally, he said, just an unfortunate uphill climb. Then, Charles looked up and said the quiet part out loud.
“I don’t think I’ll be around much longer,” he told me.
Then, he paused — and smiled.
“But I’ve had a lot of fun.”
I’ve spent a lot of time reporting and writing about college football. A new season is upon us. With the expanded College Football Playoff, realignment, uncertainty, drama, and lots of emotions, it stands to be the most compelling season in the history of the sport. There’s never been anything quite like it.
Private equity coming? Super conferences in a few years? The 12-team playoff morphing into 14 or 16 teams for 2027 and beyond? QR codes on the helmets of players? Can we pause for a moment and appreciate that the best part of college football — the football itself — is finally here again? It’s a breath of fresh air.
In early 2022, I took a professional leap, left the world of newspapers, and launched this independent publication. I went to work for you. In the months before making that decision, I didn’t consult with college administrators, conference commissioners, and university presidents. I had them on speed dial, but instead, I talked with small-business owners, die-hard readers, and entrepreneurs.
I relate more with them. One fellow, who owns a window and door company, assured me that I would love waking up every day with the exhilarating pressure to perform. (He was right.) Another friend, who had built and sold several small companies, said: “You’re gonna love working directly for your customer.” (Right, again.) Another told me: “You’ve figured out that YOU are the product.”
My mind is filled with ideas, information, opinions, and concepts. I’m in constant contact with sources. I’m also invigorated and have undying loyalty to my readers. So I write frequently. You not only support me — but also my family. I love being unfiltered, unencumbered, able to travel, and chase the best stories. So thanks to those who subscribe and make it possible and also to those who have donated subscriptions to seniors or given a gift subscription to a friend or family member.
My father alerted me the other day that he missed a couple of recent posts. They didn’t show up in his inbox. Dad checked JohnCanzano.com and saw the work there. He was confused. Turns out his email account thought I was a spammer, sent the posts to the junk folder, and disabled email delivery. (If that ever happens to you, check the junk folder. Or drop me a line. It’s a quick fix.)
Charles told me on Tuesday night: “I’m still reading.”
That made me happy. This college football season is going to be a fun ride. I’m hoping he’ll be healthy enough to enjoy it and I’m glad my column serves as a diversion for him, and maybe some others who are struggling.
These are tough times for my favorite grocery store checker and friend. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop looking for the guy when I walk through those doors.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate all who support, subscribe, and share this independent endeavor with friends and family. If you haven’t already — please consider subscribing and/or gifting a subscription to someone who would enjoy it.
This is an independent reader-supported project, with both free and paid subscriptions. Those who opt for the paid edition are providing vital assistance to bolster my independent coverage.
We met years ago at an airport on our way to a Duck game. I have always enjoyed reading your post, but have enjoyed them even more now that you are on your own. It feels like a letter from a good friend. I like that! Thanks!
I think most of us have a "Charles." We are better for it.