Beginning of the end

By Peggy Sturdivant

When my daughter was young I didn't work on Wednesdays. On that day we would leave the house after breakfast and stroll to downtown Ballard. There didn't seem any reason not to stop at the swings by the Community Center, or the Ballard Baking Company for a brown-eyed Susan cookie - it was story day at the library. Even the bank where the library now stands doubled as an indoor playground with a large collection of interlocking plastic toys and farm animals. It wasn't unusual for us to stay out until mid-afternoon, making our way home as slowly as we had left. Counting cats in the windowsills, bulbs pushing their way through the ground. By late afternoon I was usually carrying the doll stroller, the doll, the backpack and the daughter.

It's rare now to leave the house and be away for the entire day on foot. When our children are young, time seems to own us less, hours spent out of the house seem easier. I miss those days and the experience of being a visitor in my own neighborhood, appreciating it with all of the senses in a way that's usually reserved for out of town vacations. But last Thursday I left my house on a whim in the morning, and like the old days, didn't make it home until late afternoon.

It started with a strange desire to be on Market Street for the doors opening on the final sale at Metropolis III. Ever since I had seen the papered windows and closure sign I was curious; who would be there when the doors opened? What would the mood be?

Ron and Ann Brown are retiring after 20 years on Market Street. They took over the previous apparel business at that location; their retirement will likely mark the end of 55 years of a clothing store at that spot. Would the first people through the door be bargain hunters or mourners?

"Was there a line outside the door before you opened?" I asked the employee standing just inside. "No," she said, "but I dreamed there was."

"So did I," I told her. It was not crowded, and subdued. Mostly women were circling stacks of shoeboxes that previously left the mysterious back storeroom only by size and style. The accessories had been reorganized, the racks of clothing color coordinated. Even the gift boxes had been put out for sale, plastic hangers were bundled (10 for a dollar). Above the wall of socks, the mannequin legs still wore hosiery but they too were priced, $10 per set, one bent leg, one straight, in every pair.

Customers were asking questions about the owner's retirement, what will happen to the space, how long will the sale go on, how long have they been planning this? An employee replied, "they've been thinking about it for a while now...." Then he laughed and said, "since Day One." They plan to stay open until everything saleable is gone.

I didn't mean to spend all day in Ballard but it was so sunny, and once I'd been to the bank and the library, had coffee with a friend on impulse, there didn't seem to be time to go home before an appointment. So I went back to Metropolis III for a second visit, tried on sunglasses and watched other women try on shoes. By the time I trudged home the last school bus was pulling away from Adams School, and I had been doubling back and forth on Market Street for over five hours.

In my day away from home I'd seen fleets of strollers on the sidewalks and poodles doing tricks. I'd watched linen deliveries being made to restaurants and exchanges between strangers. I had watched stores dragging out their OPEN signs, yet I was drawn back again and again to Metropolis III, as if it was important for me to witness what it means for a fifty-five year legacy to close. As if it will soften the winds of change, if I am there at the end.

Peggy Sturdivant may be reached via bnteditor@robinsonnews.com and visit her blog on the P.I. website.