Last night after work, I was to meet my father at the Layton Hills Mall, so we could buy me some maternity clothes as a late birthday present. So I picked up Rebecca, and we went to look around while waiting for my Dad, who would get off about an hour later.
At first, the weirdness was the uncrowded atmosphere of the mall. Where are all the people? How do the stores make enough money to stay open? Rebecca and I kept seeing signs for "help wanted" and Rebecca's comment was "What for? Who would they sell to?"
The second weirdness was that we slowly strolled through some stores and no sales person came up to us. Do they not need their commission? We were not just quickly walking through. We stopped and gawked at the prices, hardly believing the stores could make money at such cheap prices. Of course, Rebecca is used to seeing the price tags at Bloomingdales. The only person who tried to sell us anything was the guy at T-Mobile. Maybe he is hurting for some extra cash. Who knows.
The weirdest part of the night for me was Deseret Book. I have been to Deseret Book several times in my life, but this time it felt different. Surreal, actually. As if this was a strange new planet. There really was a book on the shelf called "What Da Vinci Didn't Know-an LDS Perspective on the Da Vinci Code". Do people really think they could know what Da Vinci did or did not know? I don't even think Dan Brown, author of the Da Vinci Code, claimed to "know" what Da Vinci knew. I think he was writing a book of fiction. Maybe I am wrong.
The store itself was wide, with bright lights shining. The music quiet. Almost to inspire a "heaven-like" atmosphere, I guess. It was strange to me to see the comercialization of mormonism. In New York, I had gotten used to the church as a church. I am now back where the church is a big business. "Sell me the Spirit!" Now, I know there are worthwhile books, and I own many of them myself. Perhaps I have just become too worldly to enter into the likes of Deseret Book. I also heard a commercial for a bank, talking about a loan rate, and mentioning a fathers son on a mission. Not only strange, but doesn't the prophet counsel us against debt?
So begins my life in Utah.