Frugal….not cheap!

In 1962, downtown San Diego was a different.  It was the only place to go shopping for school clothes and Christmas presents and most of the banks and attorneys were located there, too.
My mom worked downtown as a legal secretary.  Every evening, my dad would pick her up and sometimes I would go along.  If we showed up a little early, my dad would let me go to the Woolworth’s that was around the corner from my mother’s office.
Of all the stores in San Diego, Woolworth’s was my favorite.  I could always find something unique to buy with my $2.00 allowance.  When I pushed my way through the front door, I always stood at the top of the flight of stairs to take it all in.  At this height, a child could get an adult view of the first floor.  To the right, was the luncheon counter where the ceiling lights would bounce off the chrome of the chairs.  You could hear the chatter of dishes as the waitress slid another “blue plate special” of hamburger and fries under a customer’s nose. The huge mirror on the wall allowed you to see the front and back of the customers and waitress at the same time, making everything seem twice as big.  You could hear the sizzle of the patties as the cook threw the cold meat on the grill.  The cooking smells tried to overtake the store, but could not compete with the popcorn-and candy-counter directly under my view in the center aisle.  If my dad were with me, we would stop for a 1/2-pound bag of malted balls.  I watched the clerk plunge his scooper into the tank of chocolate-covered raisins and pour them into the silver scale.  His left hand held the white paper bag as he lined up the mouth of the scale with the top of the bag.  The candy made a pleasant sound as it slid into the open mouth of the bag.
Satisfied with all that I had seen, I would then grab the rail as I ran down the steps.  I would then turn right and head down two more flights that would take me to the basement floor of the store.  I would stop mid-way and looked at the floor below me.  I could see the top of the fish tanks on the left, the aisle of toys straight ahead and the porcelain figurines on my right.  Anxious to see everything, I ran down the rest of the stairs and went to my right.  The figurines were lined up on one aisle.  There were porcelain dogs and cats, piggy banks and souvenirs.  Knowing I didn’t have much time, I ran to the pet department.  I was entranced by the vivid colors from the fish tanks.  I admired the neon tetra and swordfish.  I  talked to the blue parakeets and hummed to the turtles.  I would then rushed off to the toy department and scurry down the aisle looking at each doll.  Some were dolls with baby bottles and bassinets, and others had car coats and matching hats.
I would always worry about being gone too long and would run all the way back to the car, but I would always stop one more time before walking out the door, to turn around and take another look.
This year, when I heard that Woolworth’s was closing, I knew I would have to go back one more time.  Downtown had changed  and I wondered how it had affected the store.
When I arrived it still had the familiar name printed in white and red on the front door.  I pushed the door open and stopped at the first set of stairs that lay before me.  Instead of the pleasing clatter of dishes, I heard children screaming and crying.  The only thing left of the luncheon counter, was a piece of plywood laying over two broken chrome stands.  A dingy beige wall with a rectangle stain was the only evidence that a mirror was once there.  Directly in front of me no longer stood a candy counter.  There were, instead, checkout counters with tired clerks.   The hamburger and candy smells were gone, replaced by the smell of mothballs and bathroom disk deodorizers.  I grabbed the railing and walked down the same two flights, I rushed down as a child.  This time I didn’t stop mid-way, as I could already see that there was nothing but clutter before me.  I headed to the right to look for the figurines, but found plastic laundry baskets and buckets had replaced them.  Spying the top of an aquarium, I headed to the pet department.  There were no neon tetra or swordfish, just dirty, half-filled tanks with no life.  The birdcages were empty and I knew they had long ago stopped selling turtles.  Curious as to what else had changed, I headed back to the toy section.  I saw electronic Jeopardy games and angry plastic dinosaurs.  I saw skinny Barbie dolls with short skirts and high heels.  Where were the baby dolls?
As I heading back towards the staircase, I passed the shoe section where box after box of plastic shoes offended my nose.  The only thing that was the same was the sewing section, which still had patterns that I knew, had been there in 1962.   In the household section, the linens were not percale and the rugs were over priced.
At the top of the stairs, I did stop one more time, just like I did as a child.  Not to remember the store as is, but to turn the store, in my mind, into what it used to be.  A mixture of sight and sound and smell that was precious to my childhood.
As I pushed open the front door to leave Woolworth’s for the last time I remembered, “you can’t go home again.”  How very true and how well exemplified here, but maybe that’s what memories are for.  With your memory you can choose what to remember and in your own private thoughts go back and relive all those things that are special to you.   What Woolworth used to be is gone, but I found it didn’t really matter.  The turtles and lunch counter and all that made Woolworth special will always be there–in my memory.