CHEERS! on the first Friday of each month is all the rage. It should be. In one of Capitalism’s finest hours, ubber-enthusiast Todd White united all the merchants to support an evening of wine, shopping and community—emphasis on community—up and down Main St. The ultimate goal? Boost sales in a stagnant economy.

City Hall joined in—thought outside the box—and okayed wine in glasses on the streets. It was a stroke of genius. Wineries teamed up with store owners to pour their finest—that locals and tourists alike might sample great wine, commune with neighbors, and maybe buy an item or two from the stores.

Personally, I'm allergic to stores. Mention the word "shopping" and I break out in a cold sweat. People are always asking me what I think about So and So's store, and who’s moving into 1234 Main St. I'm reduced to a stuttering colloidal jelly. I haven't a clue. (If they said the old "Fashion Land", I might have a prayer). With the exception of the friendly confines of Steve's, Ronnie's, and Market), today I never wander south of Adams. (Beers at Ray's Place, er, Anna's, don't count).

Names like "Ray's Place" are my problem. The Goobs can rattle off all the stores and all their owners. No doubt they're just as nice and friendly as the ones I grew up with. It's just that I come from a world of Vandsershoot's, Caiocca's, Mel's, the Sweet Shop The Bottle Shop, Roman's, Perez Jeweler's the PastTime and our main hangout, Don Fagg's Sport Shop. The gas stations were known by their Owners, Penland, Michael's, and Callistini’s, not by the companies whose petrol they pumped.

Fresh oats made Mr. Webster's Feed and Grain the best smellin' place in town, and 24 cent burgers with 24 cent milkshakes made Taylor's the cheapest meal in town.

Vern's (now Go Fish) was where the bad boys (those who smoked) hung out, and their large parking lot made for easy turn around's, marking the southernmost tip of "Main," whose strip was cruised by raked and lowered Chevies and Fords.

Friends had part time jobs in these stores. And Maggie and Jim Pop had credit in all of them. No need to carry cash. Who worked where, determined where we hung out after school. If Jody worked at Mel's on Tuesdays, that's where we were. If Andy was stocking shelves at his dad's on Saturday's, we were there. The owners never kicked us out--though if we ever spent more than a dollar between us while taking up a booth for two hours in Mrs. Kimlinger’s Sweet Shop, I'd be surprised.
Fact is, owners and customers used to talk to us. We'd talk football, hunting, cattle prices, politics. Hear tales about the War, high school pranks, or just stories of odd relatives who'd had "adventures.”

I now realize that a great degree of how I perceive the world today, was taught to me in those stores back then. We got local merchants’ vision of the world, not Katie Couric’s.

Those merchants came to mind Friday night as we were walking Main. Wouldn’t it be great if CHEERS! could morph into a program which hired high school kids for minimum wage (or below)—without all the red tape tied into youth employment these days?

Currently, hiring kids is difficult. There are insurance problems, red tape, forms to fi ll out—all a bunch of bologna.

But the template has been created. Someone figured out how to beat the bureaucracy to get wine served in stores and allow folks to drink on the streets.

How great would it be if those same merchants harnessed their collective CHEERs! energy and put together a program which by-passed the current State rules and regs—and said, we’re gonna hire high schoolers for low wages and short hours—just so they can learn what having a job is all about.

There must be a way to tie it into the schools, so they can bypass the onerous State and Federal regs.

Hats off to any store which has already hired a kid (two of mine worked at Cindy’s). To those who haven't, give it a try. You'll not only get reliable, cheap labor--you'll get an opportunity to give kids a lot more than six bucks an hour. Take it from one who's been there. More kids learned more about the world from Ernie the butcher than they ever will from Oprah.