An Elegy for Borders

As all the book-loving world surely knows by now, Borders Books and Music is going out of business.
The big black & Yellow signs are draped all over my local Bridgewater NJ branch:
LIQUIDATION SALE!
UP TO 40% OFF!
ALL SALES FINAL!
NO CHECKS-CASH, VISA, DISCOVERY CARD ONLY.

A great swarm of vultures who have probably never cracked a book in their lives but who just can't resist a black & yellow sign promising them deep savings, no matter what the product may be, have already begun to descend upon the stacks, running amok through the aisles and leaving chaos in their wake. A clerk told me the other day she has to spend three hours after closing each night just cleaning the place up and getting ready for the next day.
By the time you are reading this it will be all over.
Borders is no more.
And I am not happy about that.
I have never before in my life felt sadness about a store closing, but this is close to heartbreak.

In some ways, the Borders in Bridgewater has been near the center of my life for the last 17 years. I just can't believe it is not going to be there anymore. The store has often been my lifeline, in good times and bad. No matter what was going on, I could always think to myself, "well, at least I can stop at Borders for a while." My great refuge from the world. We do have a large Barnes and Noble nearby, but I'll get to that in a minute. I don't know if I can even explain it if you're not a Borders devotee, but it was simply the greatest bookstore ever in the whole history of the world.

The really sad part, of course, is that we seem to have come to the end of the age of bookstores. And maybe even libraries too. Someone was telling me the other night that in this day and age libraries are really just a waste of space, since the information is available and more easily accessible online. I did manage to point out the libraries are also used for studying, for community events, reading groups and storytimes, etc. I don't know if I quite convinced him.

And how could I explain about the joys of roaming through the stacks of books that no one ever checks out anymore, just picking up whatever strikes you at the time---a history of great fires in New York, the autobiography of Jack Benny, or the worlds greatest chess matches, to name just three I've come across recently. Sure, maybe it's costing a lot of money to house books that no one is much interested in anymore, but for some of us it's one of life's great pleasures. I mean, there must be more people than just me doing this! It's a shame that this seems to be something that is going out of the world.

Well, I do understand why this is happening. I myself own a Kindle reader, and I do order most of my books from Amazon. I really do believe that this is the wave of the future. But if we lose bookstores we are losing something in modern life that can't be replaced. At least not for book lovers. These days I tend to spend more and more time at home or visiting with family. As I have gotten older, I haven't been going out a lot. Borders was one of the few places I would make a point to visit a couple of times a week. And there is a sense of community among book lovers, like a place where all of us belonged. Without Borders, there's just one less reason for even leaving the house.

A word about Barnes and Noble: I don't much like it---except for the DVD section, which is excellent. But as a bookstore...better than nothing, I guess, but it is more a generic bookstore, like the old Marlboro and Waldenbooks, only on a much larger scale. Borders was always a brighter and more cheerful place, that seemed to be run by people who knew and loved books and reading. Barnes and Noble just doesn't have the same feel. I guess it was partly that there was way more books in Borders. If you were looking for a copy Moby Dick or A Tale of Two Cities in Borders, you could be sure of finding at least three or four editions of the book, a nice hardcover, a quality paperback, a special illustrated version. In Barnes and Noble, you get the standard issue Bantam paperback. No comparison.

And then there is the fact that Borders was always more roomy and inviting, and the decor was warmer and more cheerful...I don't know, but just about everyone will tell you the same thing. People are heartbroken over the closing. Maybe it is just something indefinable. All I know is, B&N just isn't going to be able to fill the gap.

As I said above, I have never before felt sadness over a store closing. This is a first.

And when I die, and arrive at the Pearly Gates, the first thing I'm going to say to St. Peter is, "Forget the harp...where is the local Borders around here?"And if he tells me, "But we don't have a Borders here," then I'll know I've gone to the other place instead.

1974 (1)

So there was this place called Texas Weiners on Somerset Street in Plainfield NJ, and I remember one night waiting inside for the bus to arrive in a bad snow storm. Just one of those memories that stick with you throughout your life.

To help pass the time, I knocked back three dirty-water dogs with onions and Dusseldorf mustard and everything else they had piled on top. I was a teenager then, I could eat wood and wash it down with turpentine. Today, they'd have to call out the fire department.

I remember the owners, a married couple (or so for some reason I assumed) looked tired and anxious to close up and go home (the snow was really piling up), and yet they actually kept the place open an hour and a half so the three or four of us waiting wouldn't have to stand outside in the blizzard. I suppose we were all secretly wondering if they bus would ever get there, and then someone came right out and nervously joked about spending the night sleeping with our heads down on the counter. It didn't seem too pleasant a prospect, not to us and certainly not to the owners, but I couldn't help thinking at least there would be be eggs and bacon and pancakes hot off the grill for breakfast.

Then the conversation started up, the epic conversation, the one that can run on all night if you let it. We talked about favorite movies (unanimous agreement: The Godfather), about Vietnam and Nixon and about searching for something in life and whether or not anything means a damn thing in the end. When the bus finally did arrive, moving slowly but surely along the treacherous road, we ended up almost missing it. So we all went home and never saw each other again. Just one brief moment in the great warehouse of moments that make up our lives. A warm diner, friendly people, and snow falling outside.

Where does it all go to?