Sock Salad

Brought to you by Mother Media.

Mother Media went shopping the other day and came home with salad ingredients and athletic socks in the same bag. What's wrong with this picture? Nothing, I suppose, provided she remembered to put the socks away before making the salad.

Mother Media had been to the Super Wal-Mart that was recently built near her hometown. There had been a regular Wal-Mart there for several years. The area's residents, while paying lip service to the "independently owned stores are better" party line, thronged to the place. Sure, ideally they would have preferred to get their goods from their friends and neighbors on Main Street, but when you're in a hurry — and who isn't? — it really is easier to make just one stop at Wal-Mart.

But dominating all retail markets in a 30-mile radius wasn't enough for Wal-Mart, so the regular store was recently torn down and a new Super Wal-Mart instead. The Super store retains all the departments of a regular Wal-Mart, plus a bank, a grocery, and an optometrist, among other things. "Great, now our local grocers will go out of business, too! Why'd they have to be so greedy?" said the residents as they stampeded through the doors.

Business ethics and civic pride aside, we're talking about a town that was a key feature of the Old West. Cowboys, Indians, prospectors, ranchers, stagecoaches, bandits, sheriffs, madams, the whole bit. This town is not above romanticizing its historic roots to attract tourists.

Now think back to those old days, or at least to what you read about them in the Little House on the Prairie books. What was the social centerpiece of frontier life? Wasn't it the general store? The place where the gals could stock up on flour, sugar, coffee, fabric, and gossip at one counter while the menfolk picked up seed, feed, harness, and news at the other? Huh? Wasn't it?

And isn't Wal-Mart just a larger, better-lit version of the same thing? Come on, you know it is. Super Wal-Mart is the general store of the 21st century. This small-town residents should be delighted that history has come full circle, shouldn't they?

Well, yes and no. As I was growing up in that area, my parents ran a small store in a small town and depended on their neighbors' patronage for their daily bread. They walked the talk, shopping at their customers' businesses in return, and taught their children to do the same. That sounds very noble until you realize they had no choice. Their friends' stores and offices were often the only ones within 10 (or 20 or 60) miles, so you either shopped close to home or not at all.

Now small-towners have a choice, and they're excited. Shopping someplace new, even at the expense of the old, is a guilty pleasure. And when you weigh that philosophical/social expense against the monetary savings that can come with shopping at a major national chain store . . . well, suddenly the idea that charity begins at home localizes to one's own home.

We've all complained that our small towns are losing their character, and we've all shopped at the big chains rather than supporting the little guy. It's a dilemma: convictions vs. convenience. I don't have a solution. I'm not delighted with sock salad, but I will admit to being glad it's on the menu.

Today around the world: May 2 is the King's Birthday in Lesotho, Easter Monday in the Julian calendar and — get this — Dos de Mayo in Spain.