It’s Time To Say Goodbye

For the benefit of the ones who can't come tomorrow to the farewell party, here's my attempt at speech making: they'll hear it live, you can stop any time you want and tune off…

This is a good time for giving thanks, like in the Oscars, except if you don’t want to hear it – well too bad, you can’t push me off my own stage.

I want to thank all of you for the outstanding support over the years.
This shop turned out to become what I wanted when I dreamed it. Except for the money part.

When it was clean and freshly painted and completely empty, in the spring of 2007 – I performed a purifying ceremony here, burning sage in olive oil and casting away the leftover vibes from the previous occupants, and telling my friend Janice what I want to do here. I think she filmed it on her video camera.
I told her I wanted a place for serenity, beauty, friendship, warmth, music, love and comfort. A place where people came in and felt welcome and wanted to stay. And low and behold – somehow it came to be.

It was not devoid of nastiness in between, not always pink bubbly. But the lessons I’ve learned here are going to last me a lifetime.

I have to thank all my friends for telling me I could do it and should do it, and for listening to my stories over the years, the nice ones and the not nice ones, and share in my deliberations, and their advice and condolences and efforts and of course for shopping here and loving it.

I have to thank Izzy for being the man he is, steady, funny and oh so patient, and for providing the counterpoint to my adventures: he’s been saying for years I should call it quits, and that kept me going just to prove him wrong.

I thank Amitai for the reluctant help over the years, specially the year after my father died and I went into a bit of a slump. He sat here and did his best and kept his mouth shut and his bitching to himself, mostly. I love you.

I thank the devoted shoppers, the weekly visitors, the ones who came once a year to stock up on clothes for the season, the ones who came from far away, other provinces and cities and even countries, the story-tellers, the lovers of fine clothes, the treasure hunters, the converts to second hand shopping, and of course the consignors. You made this experiment worthwhile. Not financially lucrative enough for me to retire in style, but the landlord sure did, and I’m sure he thanks you too.
You warmed my heart with your life stories, sharing with me things that I will never forget. To me money is sweeter when it comes with a good sentiment, a feeling something more valuable than bills has passed between the parties. Of course I continually wished there was more money in this business so I could stop worrying about the rent, but maybe there’s another lesson in there I haven’t figured out just yet.

I even thank the shoplifters and the burglars and the hard-nosed low ballers, who provided the contrast to all the good, and the opportunity to comprehend the desperation of some of us humans, to see face to face the misery of a life that has no capacity for compassion or reflection. I feel they too made the fabric of this experience richer. I don’t forgive and I certainly don’t forget the disappointment I felt, but I learned something from them, and everything you learn is valuable. No one should be walking around believing everyone is good, and be surprised when they meet the bad. Learning to watch out and be careful is one hard lesson to learn.

The most vital thing that I found here is that I learned to know and love mankind, and the man in me. I didn’t know men very well before I did this. I think some of the essence of men surfaced in me, and I like this resilience that I found and I like that I am able to use it when I need it.

And that’s about all there is, folks. I’ll be seeing you.