Mall Walker
Posted: September 9, 2010 Filed under: Aha!, Writers Write | Tags: loss, memory, perception, politics, writers, writing Leave a comment »Today I went to the mall. I couldn’t remember the last time. There are easier places to shop, and face it, if it isn’t available at the supermarket, it’s probably out of my price range. But today, the thing I needed required a mall.
North Star was once the epitome of cool. Was. I found an empty parking place next to Macy’s. Times have changed. When you walk around in your own Great Recession, self-preservation dictates geographic restrictions. Too painful to shop at Ann Taylor or Talbots? Go for half-off at Marshalls.
My old favorites are gone. No more Baby Gap or Pottery Barn Kids to waltz through. Sharper Image, Bombay Company, Picture People–no more. The bookstores disappeared long ago. Coach is still alive, along with Williams-Sonoma and The Brighton Store, but with their mark up, they can afford a few looky-loos. I was the only customer in J. Crew, despite Michelle Obama’s endorsement. Though, forty-three dollars for an embellished tissue tee is a reach for me. I’ll be scouring Target for the knock-off.
Nothing I’m saying is new. Those of us, formerly of the middle class, live with it. Everyone else can read about it on Huffington Post. But seeing is the shocker. This broken-hearted consumer forgot a maxim. When I can’t buy, they can’t sell.
I found what I went for, but I missed the mall of 1996.
The Empty Sack
Posted: August 21, 2010 Filed under: Goals, Writers Write | Tags: loss, perception, Trusting Your Instincts, writers, writing 2 Comments »At the beach, I grill hot dogs while Bacon watches Cherry and Coco swim. When I open the back of the van to get out the condiments, a Dollar Tree bag floats gently overhead. I don’t want to be one of those losers contributing to the flotilla in the Gulf, so I jump. And miss.
The wind propels it around the dune and down the road. I’m right behind pounding the sand, huffing and puffing, but the bastard is beyond reach. With each step I hurl my body forward. Dollar Tree drifts. My lungs burn. I kick the sand with my flip-flops.
Why am I still running? Over my shoulder, the car is a half-mile back. I’m chasing a sack that I’m never going to catch. Leaning forward, hands on knees, I let it go.
What have you chased lately?
Heavy Cleaning
Posted: April 27, 2010 Filed under: cottage garden, Housekeeping, Noxious Evils, Writers Write | Tags: backyard pond, cottage garden, creativity, garden, loss, water garden, writers, writing Leave a comment »The people down the street owned one of those makeover-for-your-garage franchises. They ran the business out of their house. Other than the trucks, things were fine. At least, until they got ready to move.
That’s when the garage sales started. For three consecutive weeks, junk spilled out of the house and onto the lawn. It was obvious. They organized garages by taking the clutter home with them. At the end of the third week, a driver dodging a bookshelf, ran into a tree, cracking the largest limb into the street. Another neighbor called code compliance.
The garage experts are gone now, leaving a pile of unsellables by the curb. I made this out of some of their garbage.
