(I suppose a brief disclaimer is in order to mention that Target
doesn’t know I exist beyond what shopping I do there, and I am not
mentioning a specific store as some kind of promotion for it. It just
happens to be the store in our neighborhood and we like it. But if
Target sees this and wants to send me gift cards I won’t say no.)
We have a Target store two blocks from our house. We are there way
too often but it is literally our corner store. It’s hard to think of
something handier to have just down the street, frankly (aside from
maybe my kids’ grandparents, which is something I dream about some
days).
When we first moved into our house, Target was our source for a lot
of the new household goods we needed. When I had my first baby I used
to walk her there a lot. Ian was in school most days, and hanging out
at home with tiny Aden got claustrophobic sometimes and two blocks to
Target was easy and fun, and usually necessary because we always needed
diapers or wipes or something. We only had one car, and if Ian took it
on weekend drills with the Army, being able to walk to Target with the
baby for something was a godsend. In the winter it was a place to go
that was heated, and in the summer it’s air conditioned. Two blocks
isn’t hard on tiny legs, and to be able to walk someplace with bathrooms
and a changing station that kept the kids entertained and also allowed
me to get some basic errands accomplished at the same time has been
great. To say it’s been convenient is an understatement. There’s a
snack counter, a pharmacy, and a photo lab. I’ve breastfed my babies at
Target, I’ve suffered a few impressive tantrums there, and we’ve had
many an amusing lunch while playing I Spy and sipping Icees. I know
that store like the back of my hand.
Or, at least I did. Recently the kids
and I noticed a number of truck-sized containers taking up the south
end of the parking lot. We speculated about what they were for. My
kids were hoping for a carnival of some sort, just waiting to be
unpacked and spread out in a dazzling display across the whole parking
lot, but instead, the next time we went we discovered that the store is
being remodeled. They are doing it in little sections and I suspect
mostly at night so that the store remains functional during the process.
It’s weird. I hadn’t really thought about just how much time we’ve
spent at this one store until they started messing with it, and it’s
kind of unsettling, more so than it should be. My kids don’t like
change anyway, and outside of home, school, and the violin store, I
would wager that Target is the other place they know best, so it’s
awkward to have it transform into something unfamiliar. That probably
sounds sad to some people to say my kids and I are attached to a big
chain store, but our neighborhood Target has always felt personal to
us. We’ve known the same employees there for years. I’ve talked to
people on our block who have lived here for decades and remember when
the neighborhood protested the building of the Target store just up the
street, and they all say once it opened everyone loved it. It’s where
we run into our neighbors and buy our school supplies and get medicine
when we are sick. It’s a place where we have fun while getting stuff we
need. Or don’t need (if it’s on sale):
(Mona at age 5 trying on high heels. She still has them, and someday down the line they will be the right size.)
I was there the other night with Quinn because he needed pants. Most
of the pants he has have snaps on them, and he can’t do/doesn’t like
snaps, so he keeps re-wearing the same pair of sweatpants over and
over. I figured we’d just pop in and find a couple of 5T pants without
snaps and life would be good. But Target has an insane habit of always
stocking things way in advance for the upcoming season and seldom things
that apply to the moment, so there were no boys’ pants, only swimsuits
and shorts. So we went ahead and bought some shorts because by the time
it’s hot enough that he’ll need them Target will be on to parkas, so we
grab what we can when we have the chance. We eventually found one pair
of pants the right size without snaps hidden deep in a clearance rack,
so at least there are two pairs of something he can wear until Milwaukee
warms up enough to break out the shorts (which could be July–that’s not
a joke. My mom still brings up the time she came to visit for
Independence Day and we watched the fireworks in the park in winter
coats.)
In any case, before we could find pants we had to find the boys’
section in general. But the boys’ clothes area is now camping gear.
Camping gear is now bikes. Next to bikes is going to be a small grocery
store, which is new and is going to be great to have down the street,
but my kids are wary of this idea because they don’t associate Target
with bananas. The fitting rooms have been blocked off for remodeling
and in their place is a temporary structure to use. The walls in the
entry and photo areas are now red. We’ve been to Target three days in a
row this past week and each time there have been large noticeable
changes. Who knows how fast it will all be switched around?
So I took a moment to photograph my favorite quirk about our Target before it possibly gets removed:
I’ve always found it amusing that there is an express lane for people
who like colloquialisms and one for grammar nerds. That I even noticed
puts me in the latter category, obviously. All things being equal I
try to use the “10 items or fewer” lane.
Anyway, I was sort of surprised when I started looking for photos on
my computer that these were the only ones I have of us in Target. I
suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, because we don’t tend to document the
most ordinary aspects of our lives. Trips to Target for us are as
ordinary as it gets.
But when I think back on my own life, I wish I had
more photos of really ordinary things. I wish I had a picture of the
Red Barn restaurant where we used to eat before it became a video arcade
and eventually was torn down to make room for 696. I wish I had a
picture of the giant slide from my old school playground before they
tore out all the play equipment for a parking lot. I wish we had more
pictures of our house before the addition was put on. Places where you
make nice memories are special, even if they happen to be part of a big
chain or look impersonal at a glance.
I have watched my kids grow up in
that store, the passage of time marked in changing shoe sizes and new
backpacks and little toys bought at night to put under pillows from the
tooth fairy. So is it silly to be attached to Target? I don’t think
so. It’s not as lofty as wishing my kids knew our local art museum as
well as they know the toy aisles at the back of that store, but it’s
part of their regular life. It’s certainly American. For most people
on this planet our daily experience is not ordinary looking at all,
which I think makes it interesting in it’s own way.
So we will continue to watch with interest the developments of our
corner store. And after July we can also pick up bananas there.
No comments:
Post a Comment