Oswego

April 25, 2002

Ode to Wal-Mart

I yield.
I confess.
Although I love the romanticized,
idealized dream
of a small town Main Street,
with the little guy doing business
in his cozy little fortress,
not much happens these days on Main Street.
I do pine away at times
for a past that maybe once was,
but is no more.
However….

So I join the stream of cars,
and head for the garishly jammed,
well-lit, goods-saturated
modern-day
retail emporium
extraordinaire —
Wal-Mart.

I approach the parking lot
and gaze in awe
at a sea of cars.
Inside, acres and acres of shopping;
reduced-priced goods
and everything you need
for bath and kitchen,
home and hearth,
for the daily affairs of life,
that keep me functioning
efficiently and routinely:
the toothpaste, the floss,
the shaving cream and vitamins;
socks, and shirts
and film for my camera;
pens for my journal;
foot cushions for my feet (thanks, Dr. Scholl);
Doritos and chewing gun;
Kleenex and hand towels;
clothes hangers and clothes pins (plastic);
thermos cups for traveling;
envelopes and manilla folders —
everything that makes
my little world of habit and custom,
and of course, necessity,
go smoothly, like a tightly-run ship.

What do have have to show
for this adventure,
this experience,
this fast romp through a veritable hive
of the commonplace, the ordinary,
where are found the comfortingly
familiar things
we buy time and time again.

Life as we know it depends on these little things.
And besides, I get to see and hear
the unkempt and loud and urgent
children and parents,
teenagers and old folks,
let loose, free to buy.
I see a young father
holding a baby in a carrier in one hand,
and disposable diapers in the other.
In the electronics section,
I brace myself for the boom-boom of stereos,
and squeeze between the aisles of people,
some quiet, most in manic pursuit
of this and that.

My goal, first and foremost,
is to find what I want
and get out,
quick, quick as I can.

I have my necessities loaded in my arms,
occasionally falling on the floor
because I can never find a hand cart.
(This is deliberate — they want you to use
a big shopping cart with wheels
so you you can stuff it full
of impulse purchases).

But you know,
even in here
in this retail carnival atmosphere,
if someone walks in front of me,
or seems to block my way,
there’s always a polite,
“Excuse me.”
I’m often surprised to hear it,
for it’s harder to be courteous
when in the midst of a shopping melee
and barely controlled chaos.
(The constant announcements
on the raspy PA system don’t help, either).

“I wanna go home,”
a child exclaims with impatience.
To which the father calmly replies,
“Sure you want to go now.
Now that you have what YOU want.”
This is not a concern to me.
No one to wait
while I dash back up aisle 12
to get that bottle of hair tonic I forgot.

Now I’m standing in the check-out line,
and to my left, a stack of 32-ounze,
plastic Heinze 54 ketchup bottles
on sale for $1.78,
and the two customers in front of me
have snatched up several
at that bargain price.
But I know I’d only waste it.
So I pass.

Soon my cash is forked over,
my purchases paid for,
and I’m out the door
and into the traffic circling the parking lot
and the cool air of an early Spring night,
where I smell only car exhaust
and puffs of Wal-Mart interior air,
which scents the area in front of the store
whenever the automatic sliding glass doors open,
which is often,
and suddenly I can smell popcorn and cheap clothes.
And then I’m gone, and away
from it all,
in traffic once again,
fleeing into the night,
seeking quiet,
finding nobody but myself.

(Written March 5, 2000)

forever in motion

April 26, 2002

*first note dance* 🙂 Now running for Main St. 😉 xxoo,

…But I also should say you captured marvelously here that “special atmosphere” of the Wal-Mart shopping experience. There’s no question this is the type of consumer experience most of us can recognize. Great writing 🙂 xxoo,

How evocative..You really caught the atmsophere and sense of place. I am going back to read it again.

I hate to admit I’m an avid and frequent Wal-Mart shopper due to the convenience of it all. But, until Wal-Mart has a used dusty book section, I’ll still make the special trip to my favorite used book store even though it’t out of my way. Great entry.

Ryns: Thanks so much 🙂 I’ve been wanting to post the Pig Farm info for awhile, but didn’t have the photos edited until now. They really are amazing creatures 🙂 More travel blurbs to follow soon. Much love,

Edelweis

As always very evocative. I like this entry! You describe the special atmosphere so very well. When reading on, it’s as if I am there myself, rushing around to find my things and then hurry to the car park. I seldom drive to the Wal-Mart, only a few miles from here. I like more the smaller supermarket around the corner. Take care and have a nice saturday…after work! :o)

Shi

April 27, 2002

Very, very descriptive. Part of me wants to shudder while the other just wants to stand there and absorb…

zhnee

A tribute to Wally. What can I say? I hate that store in every way. It’s too big, it’s too loud, with jostling, pushing, indifferent crowds. I’d rather eat nails or be beat with a whip, anything…anything just say I don’t have to make the trip. There are good poems and bad – mine is an example of the latter, but it sums up my feelings on the matter. :o)

My goal, first and foremost, is to find what I want and get out, quick, quick as I can. Shopping with a purpose; it’s the only way to live. I hate when people go to stores just to get out of the house, and end up heehawing in the aisles, taking up space and oxygen. It really creases me. I’m not usually so irritable, but shoppers leave me little choice. Always

have an ally. Anyway, I enjoyed the chat last night. Thanks; we’ll do it again soon. Take care.

That should have been always nice to have an ally. Bah.

I like this very much. It takes us through the changing of the times, like changing the guard. We all must make so many changes from day to day. I have oftened wondered what my grandmother would think of life as it is today. Something tells me that wouldn’t really like it! Love,

Sago

You knew I’d have to read this, especially coming from you. My fellow has this shopping idea too–get your stuff and get out quick. Today I went to Cosco, meandered up and down the aisles…I thought it was fun. Plus the pies for tomorrow’s family dinner are huge and I know are delicious–why I bought that jar of hearts of palm is more mysterious, even to me at this writing.

Simply Lora

You, my friend, could not have nailed this more completely than you just did. I go in there to pick up a few things and three hundred dollars later with no patience and sanity left I depart Wally World. One of these days I will outgrow that store….lord only know when but I hope it is soon. LOL

Soft Paws

April 28, 2002

I love this, Oswego!! It is the experience in perfect description!! Wonderful!! Thank heavens we have the way to escape. Chaos here once again. Jazz Fest this weekend and next and Esplanade looks like a traffic nightmare. I hope it will soon be gone!! Great entry, my friend!

i used to be a Target addict when my kids were little, but i can’t say Wal Mart ever tempted me. I did like the story, Places of the Heart I think, about the pregnant girl who lived in walmart… and another fun fact, learned recently, is that RV’s are allowed to park free overnight in all Wal Mart parking lots. Makes you wonder at the connection, yes?

AzureBloom

“Seeking quiet” is precisely what I’m desperate to do after a foray to the local supercolossal Walmart. I haven’t been in more than a year, and if I can put it off another year, I’ll be grateful, indeed. RYN: Finding evidence that you’ve visited always reinforces OD as a positive experience… thank you.

Resistance is futile….You will be Walmart-inated 😉

I have to confess when I saw the word Walmart I thought of skipping this entry but I’m glad I didn’t as you managed to describe it so well. “Most in manic pursuit of this and that” Yes – perfect!

GeekPoet

April 30, 2002

i’m curious as to what it is about WalMart that inspired a poem. this is interesting. you have this recurring theme of missing parts of the past, of visiting places of personal historical significance and relishing in or longing for the way it was.

Doodlebug

May 1, 2002

I go at six am on Sunday morning before it gets wild!