Today I ventured out in the fifty-degree
weather for the annual Christmas shopping.
First stop was the mall. As soon
as I entered the mall, I took a sharp right into the pet store. There I gazed upon the caged dogs, behind
glass like expensive jewelry. The look
of longing and sadness in their eyes was mirrored by my own. When I turned, I saw people in small rooms,
train compartment sized, holding and petting puppies that might or might become
a member of that family and accompany them to their new home. If not, then back to the glass cage. I left the store feeling both happy and sad,
a foreshadowing for the mall trip.
The next stop was Sears. Or should I say the ghost town of Sears. What a change from years past. Empty shelves, ghost-employees, a mere wisp
of enthusiasm left. Here the workers can
only look forward to their rich masters getting a Christmas-bankruptcy
bonus. The workers, victims to the greed
of the mismanagers, will be soon tossed aside like the Christmas wrappings of
the goods they sell. I exited Sears
feeling empty and sad.
For lunch, I stopped at the Roma’s in the food
court. A Stromboli brought back memories
of my daughter and I feasting at the food court in years gone by. Finally, the sound of Christmas music brought
me temporarily out of my funk. Filled up
by the meaty Stromboli, yet annoyed at the bent fork I was supplied with, I
used my newfound energy to leave the food court and venture towards the
promised land of Barnes & Noble.
The sounds of Christmas carols diminished as I
left the food court. Funny, I seem to
remember in years past that the joyful sounds of Christmas filled the entire
mall. Although there were people
wandering about the mall, most seemed cheerless and not talkative.
Barnes & Noble, the last respite of
bookworms such as myself, the last of the greats such as B Dalton, Borders, and
Walden, names from the past, mere memories.
To be surrounded by thousands of books brought joy into my heart. My only complaint that if I lived a hundred
years I still would not be able to read all that I desired. After an hour of one bookgasm after another,
I said a sorrowful goodbye to my book-heaven and took off to buy my
granddaughter a toy.
Before I could make my way to the Disney store,
I was waylaid by some delicious odors coming from a bathing goods store. I saw plenty of nice smelly bath oils salts,
creams, gels, etc. However, the line of
people was very long and I was feeling very impatient. I surmised that many people were feeling very
dirty in our current political situation and felt a good body cleansing would
help. What we need is a good soul
cleansing and I wasn’t going to get it with a cherry bath bomb.
Macy’s was the next stop. I love meandering through Macy’s; dreaming of
all the stuff while my wallet punches me in the butt, reminding me that I can’t
afford most of what I see. Still I take
out my wallet, and after thrashing about, extract some green stuff to buy a few
items for my wife. The atmosphere is
very different than Sears. Salespeople seem
more cheerful, probably because they know there jobs are not going to disappear
after Christmas. When and if, Macy’s
shuts down then another bulwark of American culture will disappear. What next, the Amazon Thanksgiving Day
parade?
Disney, the store that elicits so many
wonderful memories of family trips to Disney World. The Tower of Terror, Splash Mountain, space mountain,
Epcot, oh so many wonderful memories, now tarnished by the miserly sales person
I encountered.
“Did you bring a reusable bag, “she questioned?”
No,” I responded.
“Then it is 99 cents for a bag.”
“Don’t need one then.”
And I left with a toy and receipt in one hand
and my Christmas spirit diminished by one Grinch-like person.
My wallet lighter, my sadness heavier, I exited
the mall to the world outside. I have so
many wonderful and cherished memories of Christmas’s past. The future seems dim and I worry about our
children and grandchildren. Collectively
we Americans seem to have lost our joy.
I feel like the poor puppies caged behind glass, longing for love,
waiting to be taken home, the home from whence I came.
