Whole Confusion

Yesterday I got an email urging me to shop at Whole Foods. I don’t shop there all that much because… it’s out of my price range… and, well, they put me off more than draw me in. But, this invitation would be a draw, because the gimmick is they are donating 5% of this particular day’s sales to an organization that has a mission related to that of Urban Improv and… well, yeah, let’s support local non-profits.

Except… there is an ulterior motive. If you are anywhere near JP, you probably know the hot issue of Whole Foods opening a store not a mile from where I sit right now. There is a lot of controversy about it. I find an element of sympathy on both sides… but mostly on the opposition. And I’m not going to deny my preconceived notions about them are an influence.

But this leads to a larger debate in my mind. One that makes me contemplate my own hypocrisy wrangling with a sense of social justice and… goodness for a local community. And it isn’t just Whole Foods… it’s about a nation of franchises and the willingness to embrace them at the cost of local flavor.

Now before I go any further, I know the second I complain about corporate cookie cutter retail establishments, I know I participate. Mostly through my profit contributions to Starbucks, Target, and Trader Joe’s (although they are a unique model that I feel worthy of my support). But I get that by paying tribute to these places, I am doing the very same thing I lament at people who go to Walmart, Whole Foods, Home Depot… and good God, I could fill a page with these stores, couldn’t I?

I know my justifications for paying homage to my preferred chain stores. I know what to expect, in product… and cost. I like Target because I can get a little bit of everything. I like Starbucks because something about that white cup fills me with nostalgia (and I can dull the sting of my carbon footprint by buying (red)). But… none of it erases the fact that I’m sending money to some corporate headquarters far, far away. I’m not helping a local owner, who wants to be competitive, but to maintain enough of a profit to pay the rent… is more expensive than Target. So… whose wallet is more important? Mine… or theirs?

Isn’t the answer obviously mine? Because if I can’t afford that extra impulse buy of scented candles at Target… well, isn’t that just a travesty? If I have to pay $.60 more for my light bulbs… isn’t that somebody ripping me off and denying me my $5.00 latte? Besides… Target is a good corporation. They come into town, create hundreds of minimum wage jobs – AND they are philanthropic to organizations all over the country. Schools, theaters… oh, and that hate mongering governor in the Midwest who thought castration was a solution to homosexuality. Right. That’s not so cool, is it?

But… well, this Whole Foods thing. This proves they care about Boston and the neighborhood into which they are about to plant their newest venture.  Who cares if it is a marketing scheme to get some more support in this community that is fighting to hold onto its unique identity? They offer a quality product and money… money that will improve the neighborhood… and raise the rent.

I have to say I’m at a loss. I want to say I’m against corporations. They are killing the economy, if you ask me. But I could be wrong. I’m not an economist. And some people would say my idea of numbers is blurred by my doe-eyed liberalism. 

One more paragraph to muddy this contemplation more. When I was researching my novel, I bought one of those historic photo collections of my hometown. One of the observations I gained from that study was how much Oakham changed in less than a century. Yes, the isolation of a state preserved forest and a reservoir to water Boston made direct passage there more challenging. But… that didn’t matter at the start of the 20th century when it was a self-sufficient community. There were factories and schools and stores and enough to keep that little town alive and thriving all on its own. People came to visit the springs, but the people who lived there had a way to make a living, a way to buy the materials to make that living comfortable… but it all disappeared when the roads improved and the path to Worcester made it easier (and seemingly better for the wallet) to work and buy in a city a half hour away. Oakham returned to the wild… which is good in some ways… but a world was lost, too.

Are those things worth losing to get shiny produce and a nice inventory of ‘whole’ foods? If there is a monetary gain for things that are trying to help the community, is it worth it to lose… the identity of the community?