Something That Didn't Involve Shopping

Can we find something to do that doesn't involve shopping? Trudy asked, knowing that she spoke for both of us.

We are not shoppers, she and I, but our culture today is so built around it that it's hard to get away. Shopping is our national past time. It's what we do. It's what our leaders want us to do more of. But that wasn't what we had in mind for Friday evening.

We thought for a while, but we couldn't decide just what to do. So we just headed downtown.

Halfway there, we found Magnolia Cafe. This was the kind of place we were looking for. People dressed down. Various shapes and sizes. Different kinds of clothes and hair. Young kids, older couples, others in between. A skinny hostess who looked barely out of high school. A big old-timer waiter who looked just out of a navy boiler room. A warm feeling place. Trudy has soup and corn bread. I had quesadillas. We sat next to each other at our table and talked and ate and watched people come and go. And we took our time.

Where should we go now? Trudy wondered, as we drove away. The evening was still young. I turned left. Oh good, she said, down Congress!

We parked in front of the capital and walked down the east side of Congress Avenue almost to the lake and then back up the west.

There was a show at the Paramount. There were fancy people in fancy clothes behind darkened windows eating fancy looking food. There were a couple rough looking guys sitting in sleeping bags in the shadows of one of the buildings preparing for their night. There was a horse pulling a carriage full of girls who shouted and laughed, one of them announcing it was her birthday. There were empty bars waiting for the soon-to-come onslaught, bartenders piling glasses in preparation, bouncers standing by. There were colorful displays behind the windows. There were hints of old native limestone walls where some of the modern building facades were gone.

There were spacious bank lobbies and chic offices with doorways opening right onto this central-most of all Austin sidewalks. There were dingy dry cleaners and a old-time jewelry store that we marveled was still there. And there was Little City, where we went and had espresso and hot chocolate and sat on comfortable cushioned seats in the corner in the back and listened to Beatles music and talked about I don't remember just what.

As we drove home, the city was starting to come alive. The sidewalks were bustling. The crosswalks were busy. The previously empty places were beginning to fill up. But we were heading home.

Sure we bought our dinner, and sure we bought our hot drinks. So ok, maybe we did go shopping in the end. But in our books we didn't, and this was more like what we had in mind.

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