Ah, Wilderness

I was out hiking in Plymouth with my family the other day and after about four hours of grueling shopping we set up camp in an isolated parking space, somewhere between the towering new Mega Mega Giganto Walmart and the majestic Sam’s Club.
We utilized our wilderness survival training to build a fire out of discarded sales circulars and, once the flames had died down, roasted several hundred marshmallows –barely putting a dent in the super-sized twenty pound ‘family’ package we had purchased during a previous hike in the BJ’s.
After the pain of consuming so many flaming bits of spun corn syrup had subsided, we climbed into our shopping carts to watch the sun setting behind Circuit City. It was an awe-inspiring site, filling me with nostalgia, when suddenly I realized that this was not the Plymouth of my youth.
A moment later my wife reminded me that I had not actually grown up in Plymouth, so it could never have been the Plymouth of my youth: but then, this was not even the Plymouth of last year.
Historic Plymouth was disappearing before my very eyes!
Luckily for me the Olde Towne Trollee was passing by on its historic tour just then, so I jumped on board: much to the dismay of my family, who were all snuggled deep down into their carts.
If there was anyone in town that knew the true story of historic Plymouth, I thought, it was those darn Trolley drivers.
The first tour stop, as it turned out, was an old hang-out of mine: the big rest stop and commuter parking lot at Exit 5 on the Expressway.
“Once upon a time”, the driver began, “this was the site of an information center, where visitors to Plymouth could find pamphlets on all the historical sites and attractions, but nothing else: no donuts, no burgers and fries, nothing!”
A shudder went through the half-empty trolley.
Before the shock of the first stop had subsided, we rolled up to a quaint brick building, no more than 100,000 square feet in size, but now as empty as the Shops at Five.
“Just a few weeks ago this building,” the driver informed his incredulous audience, “was a fully functioning, if undersized Walmart”.
Further down the road we came upon another artifact of a simpler age: what had once been called -it was hard to believe, a ‘Super’ Stop & Shop.
All of these buildings were remarkably well-preserved, and the average visitor would probably not have realized their antiquity, save for the placard that was affixed near the front doors of each building, indicating their last week of occupancy.
The next stop was a fabled Giant K-Mart, last occupied according to its placard, in 2002. Here the trolley pulled over so that we could disembark and take a brief tour.
It was marvelous: the local historical society operated the building as a living museum, staffing the facility with actors portraying the stock boys and cashiers of its Blue Light-lit past. You could talk with these dedicated volunteers, but no matter how hard you tried they never came out of character.
The tour continued, passing strip malls with insufficient parking, lone auto dealerships, and high schools with barely more than a thousand students. It was so reassuring to see that the Plymouth of yesterday (literally yesterday) had not been completely obliterated to make way for the Plymouth of a few hours later.
When the trolley finally circled back around to our campsite, the sun had set behind the stores and the sky was filled with the mysterious lights of the Aurora Storealis.
I got off and rejoined my family, entranced by the neon lights, and filled with a newfound confidence in the future of our community.
“It’s not how big the store is,” I blurted out to my wife and children, “it’s how big the people in the big store are:” or words to that effect.
Then we began packing up our gear in preparation for the long hike down in to the residentially zoned foothills.
“Can we go camp-shopping again soon,” my youngest son asked, unaware of the state of my credit?
“Why not” I promised: “we still have about fifteen pounds of marshmallows left, and empty parking spaces for as far as the eye can see!”