July 19, 2011

  • earth without borders

    Those who know me well are familiar with my love of literature, from the classic to cheesy; epic history texts to moderately simplistic science-fiction, and so on. To me, the simple adventure of discovering what may happen when I turn the page is worth the effort, every time. I've always loved to read, and I always will. With this in mind, it is with a heavy heart that I read today's news regarding the liquidation and eventual closure of the remaining Borders bookstore locations. It's a sad thing whenever you witness another sign of the slow demise of printed news (and such notifications are rather commonplace these days), but the dissaperance of Borders is particularly poignant to this 21-year old. 

    Back in middle school, the Borders here in Bowie, Maryland was the place to be. Granted, that is in no way a factual statement. But for my family, it absolutely was. Barnes and Noble hadn't yet drawn us in with promises of expanded selection and constant discounts; the place to find books was Borders, and there just wasn't another option. Every junior-high level Star Wars novel I ever devoured came from Borders, and many of them are still collecting dust on my shelves with their Borders price tags intact. I can still visualize the Harry Potter section that sat in the middle of the aisle leading to the youth/teen book section, filled with random memorabilia and trivia games that I've long since disposed of. There was nothing particularly magical about that store; in fact, the lack of magic and charm is likely why I remember it so fondly. Bookstores today put so much emphasis on the experience; comfortable reading chairs, secluded corners, and modern coffee shops are scattered among the bookshelves. But to me, I'll remember Borders for the books, and nothing else. I'll remember cramming myself in the corner between the displays of children's DVDs with the latest Animorphs release, tearing through the pages and attempting to finish the book before my mom or dad decided it was time to go.

    The Borders in Annapolis holds completely different tales, largely unrelated to books. To an awkward sophomore, that was the prime location for a date; what better place to meet the girl I was smitten with than the lofty ceilings of a two-story haven of random books and movies. The layout of the store was perfect for finding a small corner, not to read, but to find a goofy title and laugh, enjoying some personal moments that are so fleeting in young relationships. That store was a place to meet people; both friends and random strangers. I still remember fondly a group of five friends spending time at that Borders, wasting hours with nonsensical fun. Sure, time has changed those relationships and altered friendships, but that store will always be a common ground of simplicity and nostalgia, even once it disappears. 

    So in the unlikely even that a random Borders employee reads this, allow me to say a heartfelt thank you. Trust me; I work retail, so I get it. It's just a bookstore. But let me ask you this. Does it ever seem weird, even when your mind matures past youthful ignorance, to see a massive company simply dissipate into thin air? Borders was once a giant in my mind, seemingly "too big to fail" (and thankfully existing in days before such an idiotic phrase was coined), and yet it is already beginning to ride out of view beyond the sunset. Despite fully understanding why Borders will no longer exist, I'll never quite get it. 

    And so that's it. Tomorrow, I might swing by the Annapolis Borders to say a brief farewell, and then I'll move on. The Bowie location closed several months ago, and I hadn't stepped foot through its doors in years before then. Just as with any event in life, the world stops for nothing. But for this slightly saddened bibliophile, I'll gladly stop for a few seconds and say thank you to Borders. This wide-eyed kid will always have a small place left for your stores, even if it's not much to go on.

    You'll be missed.