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Shopping local is far from times passed by
(by Timmy Sullivan - February 15, 2012)
SENIORITIS, BY TIMY SULLIVAN
Shopping local is far from times passed by
My love for Chagrin Falls is well known, but I never felt it more than on the day of the "cash mob" at Chagrin Hardware.
Hundreds of people unearthing weird and wonderful treasures from every nook and cranny of that venerable old building, free popcorn and cookies, more dogs than have ever been in a store at one time, Jack actually rendered speechless and our little town a national media star -- not because some disinterested news flunky needed a human-interest story but because of the passionate efforts of a Pulitzer Prize-winning Associated Press photographer who grew up right up the road and has been hanging out at the hardware store for years. It just doesn't get any better than that.
But I must admit I went home that day feeling a mixture of exhilaration and nostalgia. I'm just old enough to remember when shopping locally wasn't a cause. It was just what we did.
Every spring, right before Blossom Time, the kids and I would make a pilgrimage to Woolworth's for their summer outfits of Healthtex shorts and striped T-shirts and a new supply of Carters socks and underwear. Then we'd mosey over to Faflik's for four pairs of Keds and maybe some sandals for the girls. My Levi's and T-shirts and the kids' school clothes came from Chagrin Department Store.
If it was something dressy I craved, I'd head to Havre's. If the kids needed party clothes, we could count on finding just the thing at Stroud's River West. The girls' riding britches and coats (and a whole lot of advice) came from Wolf's Harness shop. Ed bought all his suits at Peter's. We decorated our house with wallpaper from Davis paint and furniture from Brewster and Stroud. We bought our books at Fireside and caught all the latest flicks at the Falls Theater.
Medical care was dispensed from the old Curtiss Clinic. For prescriptions, sun screen, bug spray, antiseptics, my makeup (such as it was) and all those other drugstore essentials, we'd head to Nall's or Barron's or Spiece's. And no shopping trip was complete without a stop at Dink's for a burger and fries at the counter. The kids loved spinning those stools.
It was rarely necessary to leave the village for anything, and I do miss that. I know, I know, those days are gone forever, thanks to Internet shopping and the ever-expanding world of malls and big-box stores, and I applaud those who work to maintain the village as a viable shopping venue against some pretty daunting odds.
The stores on Main Street are beautiful these days, filled with treasures of their own. I agree with my colleague, Barbara Christian, who last week urged you to take the time to do a little exploring.
These days, I ask myself, whenever I head out to do a little spending, whether I can get what I'm looking for in the village. All too often, the answer is no, and I head off to Beachwood Place, like everyone else.
But I do long for those days when we knew pretty much every shopkeeper in town and we were a village in the truest sense of the word.
Oh, the stories I could tell you about how Peter saved the day by steaming Meg's hunt coat when she fell in the mud during a big show at the polo field or the day I got the call from Nall's that the two boys had convinced a teller at a local bank that they needed the money in their little accounts to buy a gift for me and then stocked up on candy and cardboard airplanes, both of which they were enjoying in Riverside Park.
That's why I am so grateful to the Shutts family and all those families and individuals who keep that small-town spirit alive. I feel so fortunate to live in a place that gets it in an age when "it" is becoming more and more difficult to find.
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