I was three years old when my father, Mario Taffera, opened his first store. It was December 6, 1986, when the doors to Convenient Food Mart, located at 142 South Main Street, Pittston, opened.

For as long as I can remember, a picture capturing that very moment has been pinned up against the wall of the store’s office. Over the years it has faded, but it clearly shows my father, accompanied by his parents, Evo and Julia Taffera, standing outside of the store, waving, smiling, and greeting the first customers. My siblings and I joined our father and grandparents in the long standing Taffera tradition of family working side-by-side.

That tradition has lasted for more than 23 years. In that time span, much has happened. We learned, we flourished, we faltered, we loved, we bickered, and we always stood side-by-side, creating memories that fill our hearts and most of our conversations to this day.

On Tuesday, October 27, 2009, the tradition ended for us, however. My father, after 23 years of serving the city of Pittston, sold Convenient Food Mart to a new owner. My father’s first store that he owned, that was bought with money that my grandparents acquired from taking a second mortgage out on their home, that was a family owned and operated business from day one, is no longer a part of the Taffera family.

This little fact is both a beautiful and sad realization. Beautiful, because now my father and my brother, who dedicated their heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears to CFM, can now move on and pursue other dreams. Sad, because a piece of my family, home, and childhood is gone and will inevitably change with the new owners. But, what can never change are my memories.

In the early days at CFM, I remember being too little to be much help, so my dad appointed me his official “Toy Tester.” I would sit cross-legged in the middle of the aisle and play with every single toy on the shelves. At the end of the day, I would give my dad a report of the good toys and bad, and, if lucky, be allowed to bring one home with me. That was my pay in the beginning; Daddy would buy me a $1.50 doll for a hard day’s work.

Growing older, my Papa Evo and my sister Christy would teach me how to count change with dimes and nickels from the cash register. I would stand on milk crates to be able to reach the counter and smile proudly at a customer as I handed them their 33 cents change for a carton of milk.

My Gramma Julia would recruit me to help her with muffins and bread in the bakery. She would grab me a stool and a big wooden spoon and say, “Now, Haley Ann, show me how strong you are and what an excellent baker you can be by mixing up these blueberry muffins for Gramma while I go make this nice man a sandwich for his lunch.” She would come back to find me with batter on my clothes, in my hair, and on the counter, but praise me nonetheless for being such a wonderful help.

I would skip down the aisles with canned goods that my dad would hand me from out of the large crates on grocery order day and put them in their correct spot, label out just as he taught me. My brother Eric would peer at us from around the corner of another aisle and throw rolls of toilet paper, beginning a playful fight during the work day.

I remember being a bit too playful for my dad’s liking one Saturday many years ago when, after feeling bored and mischievous, I decided to hide myself on a shelf behind rolls of paper towel. I didn’t answer when he and my grandparents noticed I was MIA and started hollering my name and searching inside and outside of the store. I didn’t answer for too long a time, but I did answer and come out from hiding when he started to panic and considered calling the police to report a missing child. Sorry I almost gave you a heart attack, Daddy!

When I turned 14 I was finally put on the payroll and working full shifts every Saturday and Sunday. Most days, just like any other teenager, I hated coming to work and missing out on sleeping in, going to the mall with friends, or just spending a lazy day at home. I hated working more than all of my friends during the summer and not being able to have a “real” vacation, but, looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing. Working probably kept me out of trouble and definitely helped me to mature and learn responsibility.

Over the years, I learned a thing or two about kindness and strength of character from random strangers. I learned one hell of a work ethic that my family, especially my dad and grandparents, has instilled in me. I learned that a job, if you really love it, isn’t a job at all, but something more, something that comes a close second to home. And, most importantly, I learned the value of family love and trust, of working side-by-side in both good times and in bad.

From the age of 3 to 24, Convenient Food Mart was, in many ways, my home away from home and has made up a great portion of my life. I played in the aisles, worked behind the counter and in the deli, stocked beer, soda, and milk in the coolers, did paperwork in the office, and worked from 8 a.m. until 4 p.m. and/or 4 p.m. until 12 a.m.

And while we are leaving Pittston, my family and I will remember the beginning, middle, and end of our story together at CFM, since, in many ways, that is where it all began for us. That store, the customers, and the employees, are a part of the reason our family is as close as it is.

We will always remember our customers, customers who became our friends; friends like Bobby, Debbie, Clarence, Charlotte, Pipsy, Tony, and Smokin’ Joe, just to name a few. We will remember our faithful employees who, in more ways than one, became our family; family members like Rosie, Eddie, Anthony, Laura, Josie, Leah, and Kim, just to name a few more. We will be forever grateful and proud to have served you seven days a week, come rain, snow, or sunshine, and to have shared holidays and special occasions with you.

You, the city of Pittston, have in more ways than one contributed to our happiness, to the story of our family and our lives, and will always remain in our thoughts, prayers, and dinner conversations. Thank you for so many wonderful years.

I grew up in the Pittston Convenient. I grew up with family and friends. I grew up in a place that will always hold a special place in my heart, no matter whose family owns it and no matter what sort of change may come to it. So, goodbye, Pittston Convenient Food Mart; I will see you again, just as you once were, with my family by my side, in my childhood dreams and memories.

About the Author

Haley Taffera covers for the Times Leader. Reach her at or .

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