Best Buy Blues

Early in the morning, the day after Christmas, my two oldest children were eager to see that I got showered and dressed so that they could get a ride to Best Buy to purchase two DS video games with some Christmas money they had received. Our household already borders on being an anti-technology dictatorship (never mind that I'm writing a blog on-line.) I abhor going to this store and even more so with my children. But there are times that it's unavoidable. After arriving at the store, which was not as crowded as I'd feared, I briskly walked through the parking lot, joking with the kids, so as to distract myself from the inevitable barrage of screaming technology that we'd encounter upon our entrance. After opening the second set of doors and passing the security employee, I rushed with my eldest down to the aisle where his game was stocked. On the way there, I passed an endcap with twenty or more copies of the new edition of the DVD "The Exorcist." This seemed so a propos. I quickly lost sight of my daughters and then noticed that like zombies, they had walked toward the nearest lightest and brightest screen, where some kind of robotic monsters were attacking each other. I corraled them back to our herd. We immediately found the two games (Whew!) and high tailed it to the cash register. After figuring out how we could use our two coupons to our greatest advantage, we began to hand over the money. Suddenly, a smiling man appeared at the end of the check out and asked "Are you using your Best Buy gift cards today?" I quickly assessed his motive , noticing, cradled in his arms, a wide lensed camera with a huge microphone sporting a rainbow colored emblem on it. He was seeking a clip for the evening news. "Don't video tape us!" I retorted. Surprising myself with the lack of any apology or kindness attached to this, more or less command, I realized that this experience was bringing out my most primitive instincts. "Run and seek cover!" We narrowly escaped the cameraman who had courteously (perhaps out of fear after seeing the terror on my face) resigned himself to assuming a different placement for his apparatus at the exit of the store. THe kids and I agreed that we would go directly home, we would not pass Target or its return lines, nor the grocery lines for the few items we lacked. Christmas Day evening, I sat in front of the wide screen of our picture window to study the virtual canopy of silver maples, their tender wood branching into progressively slender shoots which filter the gray sky and its loneliness. They don't need to attack or surprise me to get my attention. Each tree, with varying frailty, hues and structure beckons me with beauty. I've never been pleased with my sketches of trees. Perhaps this evening, I will pick up the joy stick of my pencil and try again.