I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, maybe a foot, but definitely not a spoon…

Tuesday, November 27th, 2007


Last week I was at the WalBall, that would be Walmart for most of you, but I call it the WalBall.

I don’t know why, I just do.

I call lots of things by other names because I get some sort of weird thrill from this. I know it’s a genetic thing because my father never calls anyone (or anything) by his or her real name. He has a nickname for everyone and sometimes it’s not the most endearing of nicknames if you know what I mean. This is a cruel thing to do to a child growing up in a small town. I was often confused with what was one’s real name or my dad’s self appointed name. I learned the hard way.

Just ask Gut Bucket.

Anyway, back to the WalBall. I realize that most Americans must enjoy shopping at the WalBall, being that it is the largest employer and corporation in the world. I mean, come on y’all – they didn’t just become this without any merit.

I, however, am not one that contributed to their high-ranking status because I do not enjoy shopping at the WalBall ONE BIT. For me, going to the WalBall is kind of like going to the dentist. I do it because I have to, not because I want to. I would much rather go to a hardware store if I need hardware, or a clothing store if I need clothes, or a grocery store if I need groceries. Wandering around 15 acres of concrete not knowing where to find anything, or anyone to ask, is just not enjoyable to me.


Now give me 15 acres of Tarjay and it’s a different story.

I just don’t feel the love at the WalBall. And last week I found myself forced to feel unloved and wander about their acreage. And since I was going to have to go on the WalBall scavenger hunt, I decided to go ahead and scavenge for a couple of other things I needed. Okay, maybe it was about 50 things…

Somehow the WalBall just sucked me in.

One of the things I needed was some silver polish. PLEASE, if anyone out there in blogland is reading this and knows what I’m talking about will you please let me know?
I’m yearning for a sense of peace and relief that you know what silver polish is, because NO ONE at the WalBall knew what it was.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. At least the first 2 employees, whom I estimate were under the age of 24, didn’t know what I was talking about (or the 3 customers that couldn’t figure out why I was asking them where anything was in the first place). Finally, the third employee whom was over the age of 50 was able to help me. But this is what I find concerning:

Have we become a society that doesn’t know how to polish silver, or even more so, what silver polish is?

The first 2 employees, both girls, didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. They both thought I was looking for something to clean my jewelry with. I explained to both of them that I wanted to polish my silver, as in silverware, not my jewelry, and they both gave me this look like I must be nuts.

So this is what I want to rant about and the purpose of this whole WalBall story: Have we become so accustomed to instant this, disposable that, and drive thru this, that we’ve forgotten about utensils for a holiday meal?

Is polishing silver a dying art?

Now don’t get me confused with some kind of hoity toity chick trying to be all fancy and stuff. I have a busy life and I’m all for conveniences that can make my life easier. I do, however, appreciate a nice dinner table and I really LOVE my silver. My mother gave it to me, and it’s the same pattern that my grandmother, my great aunt, my aunt, and some of my cousins have. I cherish it and use it often, not just for holidays. I think silver, crystal, and china should be used and enjoyed regularly – not just displayed or used once or twice a year.

But, my real concern is what I fear: That young girls growing up today aren’t growing up to appreciate this. Or worse, even understand this.

Is this lack of silver polish knowledge an actual symbol of what we’ve become?

Okay y’all - have I gotten myself all worked up over nothing, or is this something that concerns you, too? And let’s face it, sometimes I feel better when I can blame someone. Ordinarily I just blame Jack, but this time it may not actually be his fault. So is there anyone else to blame? Can we blame anyone?

Maybe the WalBall, or even McDog’s? Or us???

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