November 29, 2007

Editorial

Holiday shopping as it should be

At a family gathering in my Indiana hometown several months ago, I realized, at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, that I lacked a critical birthday gift for the next morning. I was stumped; surely there was no place to shop at that hour. My relatives, in the kindest way possible, rolled their eyes. Had I never heard of Wal-mart? This was the first clue that, as far as shopping goes, I am way, way out of the mainstream.

Off I went to Wal-mart, a bit daunted but ready for adventure. An hour later, I returned with, yes, several (barely) acceptable gifts but more importantly, a very sad story. The traffic: someone almost ran over me in the parking lot! The crowds: no one showed the slightest interest in making eye contact or saying hello! The salesclerks: they didn’t know my kids! I didn’t know theirs! All in all, I told my relatives, an hour at Wal-mart left me feeling a bit battered, a little less human.

Once more, in the kindest way possible, they rolled their eyes. Clearly, my Wal-mart trauma was no big deal. To them, it was simply what it’s like to go shopping.

Last week, as I read the media blitz about crowded big box store 4 a.m. holiday sales, I remembered that night. And I remembered why I love shopping in Yellow Springs, where all of our boxes are small ones.

First off, I get to walk. I start on the bikepath, then turn right on Dayton Street and left on Corry. I love passing the glow of soft lamps at Design Sleep, the mermaid painting at the Epic, the quirky clothes in the window of Julia Etta’s Trunk, the original art at “would you, could you” In A Frame. Sometimes I pretend I’m in Greenwich Village.

I bring my list: handthrown mugs for my brother at Yellow Springs Pottery, original glass work for my niece at Bonadies, jewelry for my girls at Ohio Silver, a one-of-a-kind tee-shirt from Basho. Of course, these are only a few of the human-made, human-scale products in town, and they make wonderful gifts.

By the time I reach the Emporium, I’ve run into someone I know and stopped to chat. This is, of course, the best part of Yellow Springs shopping, and also the part that makes it a little more time consuming. (If you have a young child, that child will pull on your arm when you see a friend, loudly insisting, “Don’t talk!” It’s easier without a small child.) Every store I go into, someone asks about my kids and I ask about theirs. We catch up. When I leave a shop, I leave with not only a package but with a feeling of human connection.

Here in Yellow Springs, shopping is a humanizing experience, not a dehumanizing one. It’s the way it should be, and the way it usually is not. In this holiday season we can do something good for our village, and for ourselves, by staying right here in town.

—Diane Chiddister