Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you’re saying. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
It seemed like a nightmare. Borders on Michigan Avenue was closing? Where would I go to have a tea and look down on the Water Tower park at throngs of shoppers? What would I do when I could no longer browse the crazy assortment of off-brand books in the basement, or look through the ironic Christmas cards on sale in January, looking for the perfect ones for next year? Where would I find another store with such character? If this iconic location could fail, what did that portend?
Soon there was an announcement. False alarm. It wouldn’t close after all. Phew! That was close. But the fear had been planted.
Months later, the worst came true. They would all close, even the suburban one I had been going to since my kids were small and I was brand new to the area.
I visited the wake for my dying Borders three times. The first time, facing only 20% reductions and abundant piles of gift items I couldn’t relate to, I tried but couldn’t find a fitting remembrance.
The second time, I bought a travel book for an upcoming trip to Europe and was out the door without even trying to find the perfect goodbye. A prickle of guilt followed me. As book prices climbed in recent years, even though Borders remained my psychological home, in reality I had often defected to the local used book store, and of course, amazon.com where I could buy new or used whenever I had the whim.
The third time, the discounts were up to 60 to 80%. The pile of unrelated-to-reading items had grown. The lap robes, tote bags and stuffed animals posed the question: Did the store go down the tubes because they lost focus and invested in items that no one would buy? Or because of defection by people like me? Or was it that they didn’t jump on the e-book bandwagon fast enough? Or all of them?
In the Psychology and Self Help sections I found some gems – Altered Egos, The Brain that Changes Itself, The Power of Story. Finally, something worthy to remember Borders by.
The checkout clerk was unreasonably cheerful – she was losing her job and I was the one who was sad?
On my way out, I passed a large sign, a letter from the store manager. She thanked customers for 20 years of loyalty, and reviewed some of the good times we’d had over the years. She apologized to the author scheduled for a book signing in October after the store would be closed. She asked customers not to worry about the employees, who were stocked with happy memories and would surely land on their feet.
Below the sign sat a stack of cards. “Please leave us a message. What did this store mean to you?”
I scribbled something about my kids growing up there, and me too. And good luck. And I’d miss them. And I was sad.
As I drove away. I wondered how the supposedly evil big conglomerate that was going to mean the death of the small independent book store – remember the plot of You’ve Got Mail? – morphed into a refuge, with cozy reading corners and coffee, not to mention play space for kids, that felt like home?
I talked with friends from other places who’d said their own goodbyes to Borders with similar regret. Until I talked to my friends Linda and Van. Every Sunday they have a ritual – they trek to the Borders in the Quad Cities, listen to music, enjoy their coffee, browse newspapers, pick up a book or two, rain or shine.
They figured their fate would be the same as the rest of us, until their creative store manager Kit Whan heard about Books-A-Million, the third largest bookselling chain, expressing an interest in acquiring some Borders sites. She decided it should be hers and started a campaign. 29,000 letters and emails later, Books-A-Million brass stopped in to see what all the fuss was about. They signed on and offered employment to any interested Borders employees.
So they will live happily ever after, with any luck, although I am sure there will be a certain adjustment period. Instead of a nightmare for them, it became a dream; as if the lover who just spurned you fixes you up with a new guy, not as handsome or familiar, but definitely promising. I hope it works out.
A happy postscript: Books-A-Million is taking over 13 other Borders locations, bringing happiness to other lucky duck communities. The rest of us will just have to grieve for a while. Then we’ll have a big decision to make: are we going to take up with that Barnes and Noble guy, the buttoned-up corporate one who lacks the warmth and personality we’re used to, the guy we wouldn’t give a glance to before? A tough decision that.
CBH - 10/11
CBH - 10/11
