All Things Profane and Sacred

My love affair with St. Vinnie De Paul began when I was about 16. I remember hearing about the three story tall thrift store and knowing I had to visit, if only to pay homage. I believe this muli-level St. Vinnie's was in Eau Claire (about a 3 or 4 hour drive from my hometown), but 16 is a prime age for road trips, so a few friends and I made a day of it. Fantastic!

When I moved down to Madison, St. Vinnie's was there for me. I swear, right down on Willy Street is the very best St. Vinnie's in the country. If you are in Madison, stop there to browse their book room-it has all of heaven and earth. I even managed to snag an annotated copy of "The Sexual Politics of Meat" (one of the most unintentionally funny books I've ever pseudo-read).

When I moved out here to Portland, St. Vinnies furnished my pad and provided a welcome release from my troubles. Hell, retail therapy should always be so cheap. But today my heart broke.

My neighborhood St. Vinnies is all closed up. It was full of Russian ladies with flaming accents and homey ways, books on the cheap and shady characters shopping for their shady families. Now it's empty, blank staring windows flanking anonymous walls.