Matt Denner

So when I heard that Borders was reorganizing under bankruptcy, I can't say I shed any tears. They grew absurdly large by muscling out the little guy, and now they're being muscled out by online sellers. And besides, they're still in business for now.

But today, I was caught off-guard when the news that MY Borders was closing hit me like a ton of bricks. 

This was the Borders I visited on a weekly basis in the 90's, shuttling between their store and the Best Buy across the parking lot to build my music collection. As a kid in the suburbs with limited access to transportation, this was my academy. It was the store where I'd buy a copy of CMJ New Music Monthly, Giant Robot, Colors, and a smattering of other magazines, to which I could never commit a subscription, but that cracked the world open wide to me as a sophomore in high school. 

This was the Borders where a "friend" posted a joke babysitting sign with my phone number, that kept my phone ringing for days. The place where I finally purchased Bjork's Homogenic album as my head nearly exploded from hearing "Pluto" on a listening post. It was the place I regularly whiled away weekends while my classmates went out drinking, and it played a critical role in helping me decide who I am.

So in a few weeks, or perhaps a month, the vessel for many of my adolescent memories will be kicked away. Does this mean that these memories will no longer remain intact? While I realize the location is not the memory, I'm still frightened and still feel called to mourn.

It is alarming to be reminded that ideology and belief are no match for pure, unwarranted feeling.