WIlliam Chill - writings

I spotted my piano teacher studying the suits on sale through the window of a men’s shop. He himself was dressed in a suit underneath a tan trench coat.  He was smoking.  You could smoke in the malls those days. He would smoke during the piano lessons, too. A suave Italian guy with dark black hair. He smoked with style and grace.  To this day, I still associate the smell of cigarette smoke with the crisp white pages of sheet music.  Christmas music played from the loudspeakers. Shoppers were everywhere. Everyone was happy.  It was back in the days before Christmas lost its little something. When it was still viewed through the eyes of youth.  The water fountains in concourses worked back then, shooting jets of water into the air while spotlights imbued them with a rotating schema of colors.  Sometimes the spraying pattern synched to the rhythm of the music. It was really something.   During the 80’s they took the fountains away, I suppose bec...

  At the Giant Eagle in Boardman, Ohio the day after Christmas. Boxing Day. It’s early morning, about 7am. A woman in her early 60’s is stocking shelves in the dairy section. A man about the same age pushes a cart stacked with empty corrugated boxes slowly down the aisle.  Man: “Morning.” Woman: “Morning.” Man: “How was your Christmas?” Woman: “Good. How was yours?” Man: “Good. Anything come in last night?” Woman: “There’s two pallets in the back. I think they’re overstocks.” Man: “Alight. I’ll take a look.” Woman: “We’ll see how it goes today.” Man: “Yep” Woman: Have a good one.” Man: “You too.” The man continues to push the cart with a slow limp. His right foot kicks out to the side as he takes his careful steps.  Even though the mills closed in 1977, the working life still leaves its mark on people.   I continued to look for what I was there for. A small carton of cream in the grand scheme all of a sudden seemed trivial and meaningless.  An end cap displ...