By Lynn R. Mitchell
When I was a little kid, Christmas was a magical time to pick out a special something for my sisters and parents to show how much they meant to me. Today the same applies for family and friends who are the reason my life feels complete.
While growing up in Bon Air across the James River from Richmond, shopping opportunities were few for two young sisters with limited financial resources. There was the Buford Road Pharmacy and the Bon Air Hardware, both a short one- or two-block ride on our bicycles, so that’s where we did our shopping.
Two very patient older gentlemen worked in the Bon Air Hardware and I’m sure they smiled to themselves as my sister and I walked among the rows of familiar plumbing supplies, carpenter needs, and other materials necessary for the upkeep of a house. Our young eyes wandered up and down the shelves as we searched their contents, hoping to find just the right gift for our parents that was within our price range as the gentlemen offered kind suggestions for the neighborhood kids carrying only a couple of bucks in their pockets.
I say the gift was for our “parents” but it was usually more suited for our mother, and our good-natured Dad just got his name on the tag.