G-l-o-r-i-a…Glor-r-r-ria’s!

Seeley’s on Main Street Westhampton Beach has always been “Gloria’s” to me since I can remember. Gloria Seeley, along with her sister, owned and operated the quaint, little Long Island newspaper stand and general store. It was such a special treat whenever Dad would say, “I’m going to Gloria’s. Anybody want to go?” Silly question, we always wanted to go! Dad went for nostalgia more than the newspaper, cup of coffee, and cigarettes he obligated himself to purchase each time. Gloria’s reminded him of the small store he once owned as a young man. He spoke of it often to Gloria, and they would get into a friendly argument over the changes he would make to her store had it been his.

My sister and I would wonder away from their ever-ongoing battle and explore the heavily cluttered, dimly lit aisles. It was like being on an archeological dig. We passed the hours, or so it seemed, rummaging through shelf after dusty shelf, hoping to unearth some new, exciting find. We were seldom disappointed. When it was time to go, Gloria offered us suckers from the stash she kept hidden behind the counter. On days she was feeling extra generous, she’d point to the five and dime toy rack and say, “Go ahead, take something. Just one, mind you!”

Many things have changed with the passing of time. Gloria and her general store are no longer with us. Seeley’s has changed ownership and has been transformed into a hustle-bustle gourmet bakery/coffee shop in the upscale Hampton’s hamlet. The storefront is smartly decked out in green and white striped awnings. A thick coat of bright yellow paint cleanly masks the old, worn brick building that I remembered.

Stepping inside today, I’m greeted by an unnatural spaciousness -- the tall shelves with their mountains of clutter once crammed wall-to-wall, are all gone. The wooden floor has been sanded and refinished. I didn’t remember having seen the floor before. Small bistro tables and chairs barely fill the available open space. The place is buzzing with pastry-eating, latte-sipping summer vacationers. Nothing of the original store remains.

The faces of the crowd and the unfamiliar sound of cups clacking on saucers, flatware clinking against plates, suddenly fade as my mind wanders back in time. The old wooden counter suddenly re-appears. I can see Gloria, her heavy body hunched over and peering down at me with her hands loosely clasped. Our eyes meet, and a hint of smile breaks through her stoic expression. Rising ever so slightly to shift her weight, she gruffly barks, “Hey boy, how’s your dad?”

I catch myself almost about to answer, as her ghostly welcome raises waves of goose bumps and fond childhood memories. It was a simpler, happier time, when Gloria’s and the world as I knew it were rich with new discovery, and the future still so far away, held so much mystery and promise.

~g