Their apple pies were the best from a kid’s standpoint. That’s the beginning of the story. My best friend’s mom, Mrs. Mours worked at the bakery, a block away from my house. It was located on the corner at Sarah Street. Noreen, my friend and I would visit her sometimes in the back where the goodies were prepared. I even got an occasional invitation to Greb’s Apple Orchard. There would be a big annual apple harvest out in the “country”. Ladders, bushel baskets! The ride out there was a big part of the fun. At times we would load up in the back of her dad’s pick up truck and bounce around with the wind in our hair. Back then, it seemed that the fewer cars moved slower. Safety wasn’t the important issue it is today. Eventually both my friends moved out near the orchard and the Grebs built a new home on that very same orchard. Mrs. Greb sold the bakery to someone and stayed on as a consultant till things became stable for the new owners. They had the best lady locks, apple turnovers, donuts were great. On Saturday the place was packed. One couldn’t get into the door. Hungry patrons would come out of the bakery carrying bags and boxes of baked goods for the weekend.