A few years ago my family took a trip to Commerce, GA. I’m sure Commerce has banks and grocery stores and churches and neighborhoods, but to outsiders like us, Commerce is a mecca of outlet stores. One of our favorites was a small book store with both a good selection and low prices.

On this particular afternoon my husband, kids, and parents roamed the aisles and scanned the shelves in this peaceful oasis amid a sea of big name retailers. Classical music played softly in the background and my dad asked the cashier for the name of the CD.

“That’s Vidalia,” she said. I’m sure Vidalia—not to be confused with Vivaldi—has banks and grocery stores and churches and neighborhoods, but to outsiders like us, Vidalia is a town in middle Georgia, a region divinely blessed with low-sulfer soil conducive to growing the sweet onions that carry its name.

With a straight face my dad said, “Yes, Vidalia always makes me cry,” and then the rest of us scurried outside and dissolved in a fit of giggles.

[That is an onion I chopped this morning for a pot of chili. Isn’t it a fascinating study in symmetry and design?]