Shopping Mania

I used to shop, a lot.  And walk.  Early on, we used to walk all over the city of Troy.  If we went shopping, it seemed only fair to visit all the stores:  Frears, Denbys, Peerless, Up-to-Date, Towne Shop, and others that I can't even remember, even Stanley's way down the street.  The only discomfort I remember was the stores' being so warm in the winter that we had to take  our coats, usually heavy woolen coats, and hats and gloves of course, off and on in each store,  and then carry them around with all our purchases and stash them while we tried things on.  I can remember later when I worked at the Education Building, shopping in downtown Albany by myself at night, trying to find the right party dress, or buying mens' clothes at Spector's.  I think Colonie Center was the first mall  in the area, and opened in the early-ish 60's.   Hallelujah, indoor shopping!  And you could check your coats and earlier purchases in lockers.  Macy's was at one end and Sears was at the other, and a million jillion stores in between.  By now, Dorothy and my other friends were married, so I mostly shopped alone.  One night I was shopping there and had parked by Macy's. When I went to leave, closing time, I think it was 10:00 p.m., had come and the Macy's exit was locked.  I had to go all the way to the Sears exit to get out.  I was Christmas shopping, had packages to carry, it was cold and dark outside, and there were snowbanks.  Not only that, there was a steep bank dividing the 2 parking lots, it was hilly, I had to walk completely around the mall in the dark and cold, and then try to find my car.  I was completely disoriented, having known where I'd parked in relation to Macy's but had no reference point at all once I'd circled the mall.  And no one else was around: the other shoppers had a better sense of time, I guess.  Oh, the horror!  Another memory I have of that mall was going there each Christmas with Ma and Marilyn and David to have their pictures taken with Santa.  Of course we had to go to the upper level to look down and take in Santa's display, little choo-choo and all.  Ma would get so nervous; she was afraid the kids would fall through the railing.  I tried to reassure her that they couldn't fit through the openings, but she still had that fear. 
     
        So it was a relief to her when Clifton Country Mall opened and everything was on one level.  That opening pretty much coincided with Danny's first Christmas, I seem to recall, so Ma no longer had to worry about a grandchild or two dropping down onto Santa's lap.  But 1978 was the year Ma had her heart attack, and that pretty much signified that what had become our  routine was going to be changed.  Before that happened, her only weakness was in her knees, and she was so strong and seemed so ageless that it seemed that time sort of hung suspended.  Getting old, it seems, is rather like the sun shining in on the carpet;  you don't realize  how  much the carpet  has faded until you move that chair, and find that what had seemed like a gradual process has taken a serious toll.