Change

I like the kind of change you get at McDonald's. I like the change of seasons. I like the change that happens when you paint a wall, hang new curtains or rearrange a room. I like the smile that changes when your favorite girl's front tooth falls out.  I like change that takes over when you realize you're really good at something and the change that sets in when you realize some things really aren't all that important.

I'm not a huge fan of some of the changes that occur as we age. After 60, you (that would be me) don't adapt all that well to logistical changes.  As a fictitious example, the pizza shop should still be the pizza shop.  It should remain in the same spot and still sell pizza...for the same price. The gas station should still be on the corner and gas should be $.75. The local feed, fuel and fertilizer store should remain as one and operate as it has for the past 100+ years:-(  OK you might have guessed it. Hewitt Bros. is slowly dividing and downsizing.  The fertilizer division is gone and now the fuel portion has been sold. Surely the feed will follow and the doors will close.  It's been tough for the past nearly 7 years to not see a Cadillac in front of the office.  It will be even tougher to see no one there.  As a child, I'd visit and sit behind the counter and play with the adding machine.  Wow, all you had to do was push the numbers and it automatically gave you the correct answer.  I thought every student needed one of those to "help" with homework.  Sometimes I'd cut paper dolls from "used" invoices that overflowed into the waste paper can using the huge scissors that were kept in a green leather case in the second drawer. At Christmas time, my sister and I would gather our stencils from the attic, ask Mom for a fresh can of pink Glass Wax and we'd decorate the big front windows with Santa Claus, Christmas trees and baby Jesus in the Manger.  Macy's had nothing on us, we were good!  The employee Christmas party was always held on Christmas Eve and Dad was always quite happy when he finally arrived home.  Mom never seemed to share his enthusiasm for that night.  Occasionally we'd hear the low roar of disdain as they'd trek to the attic for the annual assembling of the toys. We could have put them out of their misery years earlier if we'd only admitted that we knew they were Santa but we actually enjoyed sitting at the foot of the attic stairs learning new words:-)  Often our toys would arrive on the train and we'd wait patiently at the station with "Brownie" the station master.
For many years, even as an adult, I would be summoned to "the office" for one our father-daughter chats.  We were obviously from different generations but definitely from the same tree.  We both were/are avid readers, writers and researchers, politics was stimulating and sports was a passion.
I was the child who chose to remain so I was blessed with many more obligations (and memories) than those who left or passed on.  I think I was enough like my Dad that we occasionally clashed and my stint of actually working there was a  miserable failure.  I'd like to think it was and not I.  I opted out of the rite of passage to carry on the family tradition of a Hewitt in charge.  I was a bit of a rebel and fertilizer wasn't in my playbook.  Now, it appears, that the end may be near.  The game may be over and all the players who really made it successful are bickering above about who's to blame.  It's really not anyone's fault.  The family is gone.  Business in the 21st century often means going big or going home......and it appears that going home will be the choice. Life goes on.....sadly..........things change!