A few years ago, I took some adolescent grandchildren to the grocery store and was astonished by their wonderment. One had never set foot in a grocery store, and the others were infrequent visitors, to put it mildly. They learned some things that day, like how to pick out the best bunch of bananas and how to scan goods at the self-check counter.

Like many nowadays, their parents shop online for their foodstuffs and dry goods. Cereal, milk, and paper towels came from a curbside cart rather than from shopping in the store.

This year, I was at my daughter’s house for Christmas and began thumbing through the 2020 World Book Encyclopedia I’d bought them for an outrageously low price a couple of years ago. Looking through those pages brought back memories of my elementary school years, when I’d sit happy as a king on our living room sofa perusing the pages of our family’s World Book, jumping from a history of the American Civil War to pictures of Ancient Egypt.

During that same visit, I went to Valley Village in Archbald, Penn., on the recommendation of a grandson. “You’ll feel like you’ve robbed the place when you leave,” he said. The kid was right. In that discount store I bought some items I normally use, but also picked up a jar of chocolate peanut butter (never again on that one) and some other items unique to my kitchen, all being sold at a steal.

The public library brings surprises like that all the time. Most recently, I was delighted to stumble across a copy of Ryan Holiday’s newest book, “Wisdom Takes Work” – I wasn’t aware of its existence – along with a slender, beautiful book of medieval poems and writings illuminated by paintings, “Through the Glass Window Shines the Sun,” and David McCullough’s “Brave Companions.”

None of these discoveries would have happened had I shopped or searched for an item online. Had I gone to my computer and ordered Susan Wise Bauer’s “The Great Shadow,” which I may yet do, all three of those other books would still be sitting on the library shelf. I could find Kilimanjaro by pressing a key on my laptop, but I wouldn’t stumble across World Book entries like Kangaroo, Knight, and Martin Luther King Jr. before landing on that snow-capped peak in East Africa.

Parking myself in front of a screen eliminates other real-world delights as well. It’s always a joy in the public library to see a mom with three or more kids lugging sacks of books to the checkout counter. In the Valley Village market, and later in Aldi, I heard half-a-dozen people speaking some Eastern European language with their companions or on their phones, and learned from my daughter that Scranton and the surrounding towns were popular with immigrants from that area. Flipping through the encyclopedia brought the feel of pages in my fingers rather than the plastic squares on my keyboard. Shopping at the grocery store, which I enjoy (yes, I know that makes me a bit strange), always brings the chance to find a new item or do some people-watching.

Shopping in a store also helps keep money in a community. Even the corporate stores like Walmart employ locals who put down their money on rent or a mortgage, pay taxes, and spend their earnings close to home. Sure, it’s generally cheaper to shop online, and you save some time driving, but online purchases take money from home, sending it elsewhere.

Don’t mistake me here. I treasure the conveniences offered by my computer, especially when compared to the “Olden Days” of 40 years ago when typewriters were just giving way to word processors. The personal computer brings the world to my desk and offers me more information than is available in any library on earth.

And though I rarely order anything online except for an occasional book, I also understand the conveniences offered by electronic shopping, especially for busy parents with large families. Heading off to the grocery store with six or seven kids in tow could prove a breaking point even for a holdout like me.

Maybe, as is the case with so much in life, a proper balance is best. Shopping via the computer makes sense when certain goods are unavailable locally or when convenience and speed are the order of the day. If you’re in school and looking to write a paper on Magna Carta, an online search reveals dozens of entries.

But just be aware that beyond that screen there’s a living, breathing reality show of entertainment, diversion, and knowledge waiting just for you.

The republication of this article was made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal, a project of 1819 News.

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