Even though I’m only 41, I find myself riding a perpetual wave of nostalgia.
I remember a store, literally around the corner from my grandparent’s apartment, that epitomized a simpler time and place. It was run by two older German immigrants; they wore aprons and one was always sweeping the floor.
There were barrels of peanuts and other treats you just don’t see anymore. Shoppers were greeted with genuine gratitude and respect. They may not have run a 24-hour operation, consisting of 60 aisles stocked with thousands of items, but they had something the Big Box stores definitely don’t.
Human compassion and warmth have disappeared from the retail landscape, and that is truly terrible.