Why Shopping Matters

Nov. 28, 2002

A few years ago, family matters took me back to the small town of Lowell, a farming community I recall from my childhood that is located about 25 miles east of Grand Rapids. Since I hadn‘t been back to Lowell in nearly 30 years, going back was like visiting with Rip Van Winkle and the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come all rolled into one.
In my childhood, Lowell reflected the kind of small town Americana that was found in the paintings of Norman Rockwell or the Lake Woebegone stories of Garrison Keiller. There were penny candy shops and shoe stores that sold Red Ball Jets sneakers on Main Street along with small markets, banks, clothiers and jewelry shops. There were parades and ice cream socials and kids on Schwinn‘s that everybody knew. On weekends, the Lowell Showboat was famous throughout the state for presenting a lively revue on an old riverboat. The show was considered a bit racy for the time because the can-can dancers wore garters on their legs and red satin skirts with petticoats.
So what a shock it was to return after 30 years and find that folksy downtown Lowell had turned into a ghost town from a third world country. Most of the stores were shuttered and closed. Some struggled on as video game places for kids, or restaurants that still appealed to an aging clientele from the long-ago Leave It To Beaver days I remembered. But for the most part, the streets seemed empty both of people and of promise.
What had happened to this charming town? The answer was easily found on an squalid commercial strip just to the west, where a glut of fast food restaurants and a Walmart had gobbled up the local commerce.
I‘m sure that the people of Lowell appreciate being able to buy cheaper socks at Walmart and burgers at Micky D‘s, but it sure seemed like a devil‘s bargain in terms of what they had lost.
That‘s why when it comes to shopping, I tend to think small.
I don‘t mean in terms of how many gifts to buy, or having a budget that would please Ebenezer Scrooge. I don‘t care for the neo-puritanical idea that there‘s too much gift-giving at Christmas; if anything, there‘s not enough giving during the rest of the year (although I expect to change my tune once the credit card bills come due in January).
Some folks come up with all sorts of reasons as to why people should shop less at Christmas. The Jesus-is-the-reason-for-the-season rationale for not buying gifts, for instance. This argument has always struck me as a Mr. Scrooge in sheep‘s clothing, since I can only imagine that Jesus went over the top with his share of gift-giving.
Then there‘s the notion of “Buy Nothing Day,“ which is promoted by leftist kill-joys on the day after Thanksgiving. There‘s nothing like being told to “Buy Nothing“ by an anti-materialist in a $300 Gore-Tex jacket, driving a Land Rover with kayak racks up top. It‘s an elitist and somewhat illogical notion, since if shopping is “bad“ on one day of the year, then it is surely “bad“ every day. If the vast majority of Americans choose to buy gifts for their loved-ones on the day after Thanksgiving, then that‘s something we should celebrate, not condemn.
No, when I “think small,“ I think of shopping at small, independent businesses that are the life‘s blood of my town. Shopping at these stores is the antidote to much of what ails America.
When I leaf through the Sunday newspapers, I find them stuffed to the gills with glossy flyers from chain stores such as Target, Walmart, Circuit City and Best Buy.
I have nothing against these stores, except that the flyers require plucking the paper like feathers from a turkey. Sometimes you have no choice but to shop at these stores because they literally “own“ the action on certain things we can‘t seem to live without. If and when I need a 54-inch flat-screen TV with a sub-woofer system and four-way mini-speaker surround-sound, for instance, chances are you‘ll find me down at Sear‘s or Kmart out of loyalty to family members who worked for both of these companies. And if I need a George Forman Grillmaster with the custom waffle attachment and Global Positioning Satelite feature with analog override on the martini stick-swizzler bonus module, I‘ll know right where to find it, down at the big box store.
But for the most part, I prefer to shop at small boutiques, gift shops and independent specialty stores where the people working on the other side of the counter are persons I‘ve come to know and respect for their expertise and guidance.
And I‘ve saved a lot of dollars through the years by shopping at independent or specialty stores, because the owners have steered me towards the correct choices. Meaning: I haven‘t had to go out and buy something twice because I made the wrong choice and bought cheap junk at a discount store the first time around.
Backcountry Outfitters in Traverse City, for instance, guided me into the perfect choice in a kayak. Gauthier‘s Archery set up my new bow just right (I would have totally mucked it up on my own). And the Camera Shop in downtown TC offered the perfect digital camera that produces most of the cover photos for the Express.
Just as important, these independent stores and many like them bring a sense of community spirit to Northern Michigan that makes this place worth fighting for when the chips are down. How many other Americans can say that about the sprawled-over places they live in?
Unfortunately, there are towns all over America where mega merchandising has replaced a sense of community. Places where independent stores and downtowns have been replaced by strip malls, chain stores and vast parking lots, obliterating the feeling of “home-sweet-home.“ When the scales tip too much in favor of the mega stores, a town loses its heart -- there‘s no village center -- no thriving sense of neighborliness and common cause. Is it any wonder that so many kids grow up in America feeling alienated and rootless? If your home town sends a message that you are nothing but a consumer, then what sort of citizen can you hope to become?
Happily, this trend is on the decline in cities across America, as citizens rediscover the value of what they‘ve lost. Our village centers and downtowns are coming back to life.
Recently, I went back to Lowell and found that the town is making a comeback. New residents from Grand Rapids are buying homes in Lowell, and its downtown is responding with new businesses, such as coffee shops and boutiques. People are spending time in town again, rediscovering the ancient tradition of community. I hope Lowell‘s downtown returns to its former glory -- it certainly will if the people there remember why shopping matters when we make our choices close to heart and home.