This week I took a Solo Journey of sorts; I traveled back to my hometown of Sanford to do research for an essay. Unlike the 18 journeys I’ve taken to faraway places since I was forty-six, this was a quick thirty-minute drive.

On those 18 journeys, I developed a pattern of starting each day with this prayer: “God, bless me and the people in my path.” I had an intentional focus of seeing each day as walking on a trail of adventure. I’d have contact with new people from different places and explore towns and villages that I’d never experienced. Eventually, I began to see that each day of life can be viewed with that same lens. We never know what may unfold in a day and when our eyes are open, we can experience the familiar places with new eyes, just as we do on trips to new lands.

Years ago, I did research at the office of our hometown newspaper, The Sanford Herald. I’d spent a morning in the room of original copies of editions from the sixties that were the focus of my story. How delighted I was to carefully pull down those copies on the newspaper hangers, stretching them out across the table and seeing 1968 come back to life. What I hadn’t counted on was how dusty they were and when I left my allergies reminded me.

This week, I remembered the dust and started out instead at the main branch of Lee County Libraries on Hawkins Avenue. Before, I’d found some of the information I needed in their microfiche collection.

I checked in at the circulation desk and a staff member, Dalton showed me to the History room with the cabinet of microfilm rolls of the Herald. The microfilm reader was different from the one I’d used. He pointed out the directions on the machine.

“I actually don’t find these easy to operate,” I confessed to the young man. “When I was in college, my work study job was as a library assistant. Even then, I found using that machine the hardest part of my work.”

He smiled and then patiently showed me how to load the reel-to-reel film and then advance and focus it within the page. I picked out one film for a date I thought would yield the information I needed. It was slow scrolling through and hard to get the focus clear enough to read the small font. Eventually, another staff member, Hunter came to check in with me. He’d done historic research on the sixties, too. He was likely in his late twenties, early thirties and for him that was going way back in history. I told him my interest in significant events that impacted racial relations–especially integration of the schools.

“You might find using our website of the Herald easier to navigate,” he said, and logged in on the computer opposite the microfiche machine. Compared to the print on the film, the pages on the website were much more readable.

I worked for a couple of hours and found two significant articles that were crucial to my essay. It was time to take a lunch break and swing by the local Belk to pay my bill. It was one of the anchor stores in Riverbirch Shopping Center that had served Sanford since the early 80s. I’d heard that the once thriving retail center was going to be demolished to build a Target. I didn’t know if they would do away with Belk that had been a mainstay of Sanford shopping since I was a girl and it was prominent on Steele Street.

Pulling into the parking lot, I saw a sign that said “Store Closing.” Inside, I looked out across the space that had once had orderly departments that were now empty. Lots of customers were searching for great buys on racks with signs for 85% and 75% mark downs. There were notices that All Sales Are Final.

I felt a growing sadness as I walked through the store. How many times I’d taken Mama and my mother-in-law, Mary Dell there on special shopping trips. I saw older women bent over the clothes, slowly making their way through the disappearing store. Departments weren’t in the same places; the lingerie section where I’d taken Mama for that bra fitting had moved to the opposite side of the store. How bittersweet to remember me, and Mama, and Ethel–the certified bra fitter, in that suffocating fitting room. Then I saw the section of women’s blouses, and remembered how happy Mary Dell was when we came to shop after going to lunch at the Fairview Dairy Bar; that was a perfect day to her. Now, I wouldn’t have that place to return to and relive those precious memories.

I hadn’t planned to shop. But then I spotted two pairs of shoes in my size–which I actually needed, and a dusty pink fedora that would be great for a Blues festival. How could I not purchase them with such a discount? My mood improved when the clerk announced that I’d spent just $37.24 and saved $156.51! I left the store feeling a little sad, a lot happy, and more realistic that Sanford needed an updated shopping center.

I returned to the library, applied for a library card, and thanked the staff for being so helpful. I’d come back to use that newspaper website only accessible in-house. But I wouldn’t return to that site on Hawkins Avenue; I learned that a new library would open in the Spring and would be a much larger facility near my high school.

Sanford was changing, just like every place. I was reminded why it’s important to take journeys to old, familiar places before they become unfamiliar. Sometimes those solo journeys may be the most important.

Wishing you the best on whatever path you’re taking at this time.

Connie