August 2015

I went by the shopping center a week or so ago late at night and had to stop and look. My store still sits empty.

 Now there is another one closing too....

Paco's Paradise has been there for more

Cleaning out a storage unit June 4th, 2015

I'm heading to a shop in a small town near me today to sell off some of the things I held onto. There isn't ever going to be another retail store for me and six months later I'm trying to remember why I held onto all this anyway. 

My van is loaded up with merchandise that someone will look at and possibly make an offer on. The store is one I've visited plenty of time and shopped at - one which maybe ten years ago began as just a tiny little space and grew into a beautifully showcased retail emporium that it is today. I'm glad to know these people planned well and made their dream come true but I can't stop thinking and wondering where I went wrong with mine. 

So much love, effort, hard work and dedication poured into my shop for all those years is now boiling down to a storage unit of stuff which needs to be sold, donated or just thrown away. The dream is over and insane as it may sound, six months later it hurts as much as it did in October of last year. I'm not letting go gracefully I guess.

 

 

I've lost a piece of my soul

The weather just began getting warmer a few days ago. I'm feeling as if I should be cleaning; getting the store ready to reopen for the upcoming summer season; placing merchandise orders and building new displays, but that's now part of my past. For the last nineteen years all those things took place in March and April, and now for the first time there is an empty space.

I'm looking for a job, and have been ever since the shop closed. I didn't expect to find much available during the winter but now that many businesses are gearing up for the summer there should be plenty of options. Maybe I'll have to work some weekends but likely not all, and that's something most people would want, rather than working every Saturday and Sunday for months as I've done. A day off will likely be a "normal consideration" so the crushing non-stop schedule that had become routine throughout the summer is behind me. There are some great little businesses, amusement parks, and attractions around here and if I'm lucky I'll get to work for some of the long-time local owners....

What I can't find is my passion. That thing that makes you want to jump out of bed in the morning is gone, and along with it, the inspiration that used to flow from  my fingertips as I created art out of odd things and strange items. To me it seemed like magic when it happened - and given that the ability to create and make things had only come to me in the last five years - it was magic. Only in the last several years was a fragmented brain able to function normally, and with it came this incredible sense of being able to carry an idea or a concept for a sculpture or piece of art - for the first time in my life. Before then? I was a shop owner yes, but after struggling for years was still unable to keep focused enough to actually build something....what grew inside of me then now appears to have died with the store.

Even this series of posts and articles, which during the final 90 days was something I craved to write, has become so difficult. What used to pour out of my heart and mind, so urgently in fact that I'd need to capture my feelings by furiously typing on my phone, has fallen silent. The words are labored and no longer run freely, with this being the first time in months that I'm writing. Caught off guard at seeing some old advertising materials and photos of my shop from the past, I'm somehow brought back to this blog today. But what I want is the ability to feel whole again - not just for a fleeting moment - but to have that peace in my spirit.


I have lost a piece of my soul.

What it's about: Introduction

The post below was written several years ago about the importance of buying American-made, why it matters, and supporting the businesses which continue to do that. Unfortunately, on Sunday I reluctantly posted the news that after 35 years we would be closing. Perhaps someone will read this and may realize how much goes into even the small decisions about what you buy and where it is made.



"You left anyway."


You heard me explaining just minutes ago to the other customers that our candies are born here in the USA; often by confectionery families with a tradition of high standards; dedicated to keeping their products USA-made. You saw me hand them some printed material, detailing the more-than-a-century life and journey of classic American favorites, which noted the commitment the family-owned company has offered for generations.

You barely glanced at the vintage wooden candy counters you might have stood at decades ago and bought sweets from as a child. Like our products, those old-time general store cases were assembled with skill - not inferior ingredients – joined together with care, commitment and real wood; lacking any screws, nuts or bolts.

But you decided to go. Your children were restless and demanding; fresh from the movie they had seen during the ride to the shore, they chanted that only the latest and greatest gummy cartoon character candy would do. And you didn't care to argue; stand up for principles; explain why we need jobs here in our country. You certainly didn't want to go into detail about why we must support our American companies – so people like your nice neighbor Mr. Frank, who was laid off from his job after 28 years – could remain employed. Because, when Mr. Frank was laid off as the company he worked for outsourced everything to China, he had planned on working a few more years just to keep his health benefits. See, his wife is ill; they will soon be able to get Medicare….but not now. And that “now” - the time between being an employed citizen and an over-65’er - could mean the loss of their home; savings; everything Mr. & Mrs. Frank have been working for their entire lives.

You didn’t want any drama. And it was certainly too “messy” to tell your kids how it’s not right to “demand” things, that the brand-new gummy candy of questionable ingredients might not be safe to eat – but after all, didn’t you just scan the online reports yesterday to be sure their toys were not the ones recalled, the ones that could leak poison into your babies delicate skin? If the toys were a concern to you, then why not the food they are whining for?

You left anyway. I never got a chance to show your children the shoestring licorice that would undoubtedly have been different from what they got in Walmart – because it IS different. Manufactured in an American facility - from a company who allows no raw ingredients from outside of the US - it would have been carefully screened for quality. You would have had no need to search Consumer Reports to see if this was laced with lead. Your young ones would have learned something; about responsibility; about commitment; seen dedication in the handmade walnut wood counters; heard pride in my words about selling something I didn’t have to question.

But you didn't see any of this; you didn't want to know….and if you don’t, neither will they. And today, I’m sad not just for myself, my business, the death of small independent retail shops, but also for people everywhere – just like Mr. Frank.

Unacceptance

Today I feel that I simply cannot let go. It's just not working to look over the items in the store to decide which ones to discount and clear out, what to donate, toss or keep. I can't keep the business that was so very different years ago; many variables have changes of shoppers, the seasonal nature of this area, the economy, store expenses, etc. I've had my time; years; chances; opportunities. Maybe this wasn't my forte. Maybe I wasn't as good at being a proprietor as I thought. Maybe I should have moved on years ago and perhaps this is for the best.

And yet.....I can say all that and still want to go rip down the 50% off signs. I want to tear up the "Here's how to reach me" cards I printed up for my favorite people that I don't want to lose touch with. I want to stop hurting everyday; to not need to force back the tears that rise up during so many conversations, and I want to stop feeling like a piece of me is breaking inside. I want a chance to restructure; to tweak what I see needs changing; to sort out the slower selling items and perhaps focus on fewer of the most desirable things. I want to explain to the other half that now I see where some things need to be different, maybe that I didn't "get" before. Perhaps as I'm weeding out products and categories I've suddenly seen the light and would know how to reopen next spring better, more streamlined, profitable.

But despite what I think I see as possibilities I realize it's not just my choice. And, I've had time to try and improve the business over the last few years so if I could wouldn't it already have happened? Now there is some bitterness and I believe, jealousy over the time and money issues, so the chance to rebuild has likely passed me by. I thought I did everything I could but rather than accept this ending gracefully I'm still hoping for another chance. And yet, my time has run out here.