Friday, May 15, 2009
Page 11
AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)
The Little Shop That Couldn’t
By J’AMY PACHECO
You can’t pick up a newspaper today without reading something about the nation’s economic crisis. People are losing their jobs, their homes and their savings at a rate that is heartbreaking and frightening.
It seems strange to see stores like Mervyns and Circuit City closing their doors in my little town. Most of the closures I’ve seen locally have been large, national entities like those.
However, I recently received an e-mail that my scrapbooking store is closing its doors, too. It’s a small, locally owned shop that I’ve patronized for years. Although it probably affects far fewer people than the closure of a chain store, this one saddened me more than any other.
My introduction to scrapbooking came six or seven years ago when my daughter was in kindergarten. Another kindergarten mom invited to me a scrapbooking party, which was like one of those home parties people hold to sell Tupperware or candles.
This party was intended to sell scrapbooking supplies, but it was more like a class. We were asked to bring photographs; everything else was provided.
For hours, a group of moms sat around a table learning how to use decorative background papers, borders, stickers and journaling to create colorful, lively pages documenting special moments in our lives.
I had a wonderful time, and was immediately hooked. The event reminded me of an old-fashioned quilting bee, and so delighted me that I wrote a column about it.
Scrapbooking is one of the most relaxing hobbies I have. My mind can wander; I can chat with friends, and when I’m done, there is something attractive and tangible to show for my time. I’ve attended several all-day scrapbooking sessions (called “crops”), and several evening sessions at somebody’s home.
Once, a pal and I got roped into being interviewed and photographed for a newspaper feature on scrapbooking. We were terribly embarrassed, and laughed so hard while they were trying to photograph us that we could hardly see through our tears.
Over the years, scrapbooking has been an on-again, off-again habit. I’ve created albums to give as gifts, and made a few for my own family. Recently, I learned how to construct digital scrapbooks that can actually be bound into hardcover books.
Digital scrapbooking is so much easier, neater – and cheaper – than traditional scrapbooking that I confess I’ve drifted away from my local scrapbooking store. I couldn’t, therefore, help feeling a bit guilty and very sad when I received an e-mail letting me know the little shop is closing its doors permanently.
It’s not like I’ve spent a lot of time there. I never attended a single in-store event. All I did was run in and buy scrapbooking things when I needed them. And it seemed I needed them often.
When my daughter turned 7, for example, we hosted a fairy-themed birthday party. We sent out beautiful invitations printed on vellum and decorated with fairy stickers and tiny golden wands – all of which were purchased at the scrapbooking store.
My daughter entered the science fair every year she was in elementary school. Every one of those years, she turned in a board decorated with themed papers and stickers purchased at the scrapbooking store. Every one of those years, she ended up a winner.
The fifth grade career board she decorated with Mickey Mouse themed papers and stickers from the scrapbooking store was a huge success. In fact, we haven’t seen it in two years. It’s “on the road” with the district career curriculum coordinator as an example of the ideal career board.
I don’t know the names of any of the people who worked at the scrapbooking store. I only know that when I ran in and needed something – be it a pen that wrote in gold, or paper with pirate ships on it – they were there to help. I never left disappointed, or empty-handed.
That little shop has been part of my family’s life for years, and there isn’t another similar store locally to take its place.
But the store is another victim of the economy – people aren’t going to spend money making their photographs look nice if it means missing the mortgage payment.
I’m very sad to see it go. Whatever milestones we’ve had to scrapbook about, it seems they’ve somehow been a part of it.
It seems cliché to say, “Thanks for the memories.” But in this situation, really, nothing could be more appropriate.
Copyright 2009, Metropolitan News Company