Blog: Beloved bookstore’s departure leaves brick-and-mortar lessons

I lost a hometown friend the other day. Over the years I spent so many happy hours with her, and then, in a cruel twist, she was gone. Farewell, Barnes & Noble.

Over the years, High Point has lost a number of bookstores: Books-A-Million, Waldenbooks and now Barnes & Noble, which enjoyed a long run at a welcoming site on the edge of Oak Hollow Mall, once a thriving retail hub.

This isn’t a column about the demise of brick-and-mortar retail, although I do bemoan the loss of brick-and-mortar bookstores. But the departure of Barnes & Noble leaves me with several thoughts on the power of brick-and-mortar stores.

I pulled into the empty parking lot at Barnes & Noble at twilight the other day to take the picture that accompanies this column. As I looked at the strangely empty store, devoid of books and life, I thought of the memories I made there.

I remembered the times I browsed the aisles with my family, losing myself in the history books while my wife, Karen, studied the children’s books for her work as a book reviewer and a university teacher, and our kids looked for their own treasures.

I remembered the times I shopped the store on a hunt for Christmas gifts, delighting in the special gift offerings at the holidays: candles, lotions, fancy chocolates, classy stationery. The store had a fun buzz during the holiday season.

I remembered the too-infrequent times when I settled into a table at the cafe with a soothing tea to catch up on work emails or write notes to special friends. That was a great retreat.

I remembered the occasional treat I afforded myself after a business lunch at nearby Liberty Brewery & Grill (now closed, too), when I slipped through the bushes that separate the parking lots and walked over to Barnes & Noble to take a quick look around.

And, more recently, I remembered the big crowds that flowed through the store as it ran its closing sale, which made some items available at 50%-off. Store closing sales are always a big hit.

I savored those years of memories as I gazed at the empty store, and I appreciated the good times Barnes & Noble had given me over the years.

I know the Internet has eroded brick-and-mortar bookstores’ business, but it can’t erode what that store meant to me and to my family, and it can’t erode the powerful memories that we create in brick-and-mortar bedding and furniture stores.

The store experience matters. Sure, it’s fun to browse the Internet, but it’s impersonal, too, and it’s much more fun to browse the aisles at a store where we remember good visits with friends and family.