Wegmans: The Original Social-Networking Site

Last week my mother-in-law, Miriam Helf, died in a car accident on her way to Wegmans, a grocery store that Syracusans speak of with the passion they do the Orange and salt potatoes. I call these folks, Miriam included, Branch Wegmanians.

Wegmans is indeed the Cadillac of supermarkets with its gorgeous produce, sushi bar, pharmacy, florist and candy bins that would tantalize the likes of Augustus Gloop. Dewitt, a Syracuse suburb, boasts the largest Wegmans in the chain, yet despite its size, everyone knew Miriam, from her friend at the fish counter who sliced her salmon just the way she liked it to the checkers who embody upstate New York niceness. She'd also become a force with the corporate folks, whom she successfully lobbied to install another restroom after the store's third expansion.

Miriam was a 79-year-old widow, and many of her friends had either passed away or moved to a friendlier climate. Wegmans became her second home, particularly on Sunday mornings when she knew she'd find the regulars sipping coffee, munching bagels and reading The New York Times. She'd meander through the café collecting gossip that she'd pass along to my husband faster than you can say "twitter."

Since my husband and I don't live in Syracuse, we'd frequently snail-mail Miriam photos of our kids' dance recitals, baseball games and new gaps in their smiles. At Miriam's funeral, mourners told me stories about her waving them down in various aisles of Wegmans to share fresh batches of pictures. She stubbornly refused Internet access; she preferred a photo she could touch.

When Miriam wanted to speak to me, she'd call. I'm not a phone person. E-mail is my preferred mode of communication because it's faster, more efficient and less intrusive. I can arrange play dates and carpools and shop without ever leaving my office. But what am I missing without hearing the sound of someone's laughter? Or a touch of sadness in the lilt of a voice? A lot.

In the past week, more than 150 people have paid shiva calls on our family. They've baked brownies, prepared casseroles, entertained our children, shared stories about Miriam, and given us hundreds of hugs. How did they know to come? The locals learned via e-mail, but I'm guessing the Syracusans heard the news at Wegmans.