Mark Bishop
Singing News Article
February 2007
We live in an age of over-the-top
political correctness. Regardless of whether you consider it or
not, someone has placed you in a kind of category. It could be
based on your religion, the color of your skin, your politics or
your economic status. The nightly news is filled with folks who
have been transgressed against by some other "side" of whatever
category they have been placed in.
Today, I would like to tell you the category that pop-culture has
placed me in. Please... no audible gasps.
I, my friends of the consumer society, am a non-shopper.
There... I said it and it's too late to take it back. Despite all
the frantic urging of the radio and television commercials, the
bill-boards and the pop-up ads, I just don't feel like I need to
participate in the latest fashion statement or own the newest
technology in cell phones. Somehow, the whole exercise escapes me.
This is not to denigrate those among us who enjoy shopping. Done
in moderation, it is actually even necessary. At the risk of
rubbing the fur the wrong way, these two camps can almost be
divided down the line of gender. Most folks will readily admit
that there is a difference in shopping philosophy between men and
women. Not all, but most men don't enjoy shopping in the same way
that women do. The length and the breadth of the thing are
approached with two different mind-sets. It may only be a matter
of patience. But it may also be the perceived value of time. Maybe
I'm digging too deep. It might just be that it's fun for some, and
not for others.
This is not to say that I don't shop at all. A couple of times a
year, I'll get in the mood to go buy a new suit or sports jacket
and tie for my concert appearances. This is the closest I get to
actually "browsing" through a store. Otherwise, I usually have a
plan of attack before I enter into a retail establishment. I most
always take the most efficient and direct route from the front
door to the item or items I need. Then I take the most direct
route back to the cash register, and in a matter of mere minutes,
I am on my way. This is the official "guy" way to shop. We have a
patent pending on it.
Carolyn can shop with the best of them. At Christmas-time, she has
worn lesser prepared shoppers out. Just ask her sister and her
daughters. My wife has the patience and the endurance of a Green
Beret when it comes to shopping cart stamina. Now before I get
myself in the doghouse, it must be said that Carolyn doesn't have
much time for shopping, with all of her responsibilities, but when
she does shop she cannot be denied. Usually somewhere in the
process, the girls and I retreat back to the car to read, listen
to the radio and generally replenish the food and water that our
bodies have been deprived of.
On a past trip this last December, while Carolyn shopped, we
waited outside in the van. My eight-year-old daughter Haley was
very patient. We listened to the ball game pre-show... then the
ball game... then the ball game call in show after it. It was a
long day. Somewhere in the middle of the wait, as Haley gazed out
the window, I heard her say "Dad... there won't be any malls in
Heaven." Not having been there myself, I could only guess that
she's probably right.
I guess I do have one other place where I don't care to browse
around. Whenever we eat at the Cracker Barrel restaurant, I enjoy
pushing the buttons on that little music kiosk that has lots of
different old-time recordings on it. I don't usually quit until
I've listened to them all. The girls help me push the buttons.
They think that all that old time music is funny sounding. After
I'm through, I like going out and waiting in one of the rocking
chairs. Every store should have rocking chairs!
If they want me to spend more time in stores, they'll have to
start putting rocking chairs in malls. You better do it now
because according to Haley, there won't be any shopping in Heaven.
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