Forgive me. I know its the season for shopping, but Im not much of a shopper. If the merchants had to depend on me for their year end profits, Im afraid they would be going hungry. Maybe it wasnt part of my early education, or maybe Ive had some traumatic experiences that I dont remember, but place me in a big box store and Im quickly looking for the exit.
My wife and I have a habit of going to Watertown to Target. Thats usually our first stop on a three-part adventure. Shes out of the car and walking toward the store before Ive unfastened my seat belt. Its not so much that shes in a hurry, Im just slow. Unless of course, theres some urgency for me to visit the mens room. I always stop there before doing my shopping, which usually consists of looking in the puzzle section for anything new and exciting; then making my way to the section with chocolate and nuts in those big containers. My wife knows from our history together that Ill be sitting in the car waiting for her when her shopping is complete.
Our second stop is the antique market where we both wander the aisles for a while, with her finding an item or two to take home. I usually look for marbles (no, I havent lost mine) and then head to the car to wait for her. I just find that place too big with too much stuff. There are so many aisles I forget which ones Ive walked. If I actually looked at everything Id be there for a day or two. Who wants to do that? And the book section, of most interest to me, is like a small library with no card catalogue.
The third stop is at Caribou for a medium size hot chocolate with white chocolate. She gets a medium hot white mocha. Its become a mantra. I say it into that box so often I can say it in my sleep. And when they are nice and hot, those drinks last all the way home. To be honest, thats why I make the trip and pretend to be a shopper. A hot chocolate is my reward!
I can usually handle the smaller Main Street businesses. If you can see the back of the store from the front of the store, they seem more manageable to me. Even a bookstore like in downtown Brookings, with shelves on both sides and some in the middle, is welcoming. Besides, those shelves are usually labeled so you can find the section you want. Novels here, history there!
The new location of Threads of Memories on Eighth Street South, where we have a booth, is just the right size. There is so much to see, but you arent lost in the space of a warehouse. Its much more homey than the previous downtown location, where there were entrances and exits on two streets and a basement as well.
Im an even worse shopper in other countries. Sometimes theres a lot that appeals to me but Im not thoughtful or aware of the consequences of my purchase. Once in India, I saw these wonderful foot stools.
They had a colorful leather top attached to a woven straw bottom. They were about 18 inches high. I found them so attractive, so artistically created, I had to have them; not that I use footstools. Nor did I think about how I would get them home. As it turned out, wrapped together in my sheet, they could be checked at the airport. I would guess it was the strangest package the airline saw that day.
Then there was the cotton shirt I purchased in India. On my trips to India, cotton was the preferred material. When its 110 degrees in the shade you want a light material covering your body. I purchased the shirt and showed it to my Indian companion and mentor. He took one look at it and said: You know Carl, thats an undershirt; but it will go well with those cotton underpants youve been wearing.
Little did I know. Those pants were wonderful; so comfortable and cool. Although I sometimes wondered why those folks I passed would often look at me with a knowing smile. I simply passed it off as a response to a foreigner (who didnt know he was in his underwear).
Actually, as I write this, maybe thats why Im such a poor shopper. The India experiences traumatized me! Ive had to admit that most of the time, I dont know what Im doing. Imagine my uneasiness when Im shopping for somebody else.
Im sure thats also the case when other people shop for me. Theyre uneasy. They ask, what would he want or need. He has plenty of socks and underwear and he doesnt need a footstool, or chocolate or nuts.
How about gifting a thought, word, or deed; a Christmas message of good will and joy sent out into the world around us. What could be better?
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