Video Stores: The Lost Art

"Kids these days" may sound really cliché, but kids these days really have no idea how much they missed out by not growing up with video stores.

An old video store in Monroe City, Mo -

I just had to snap a picture of it.

I'm 23 and I was fortunate enough to spend the first fifteen years of my life rummaging through the shelves of a local video store. To clarify, we had two of them: Blockbuster and Great River Video, a family-owned business. My family always went to Great River. My dad would explain to me that it's important to support local businesses.

To put it plainly, that place rocked.

It was often a tradition for my family to go out for dinner on Friday nights when my brother and I were little. We usually ate at a restaurant called Bubba's, which specialized in seafood. After we ate at Bubba's, we would almost always venture over to Great River Video. Bubba's was literally flooded beyond repair and subsequently went out of business in the summer of 2008, which was such a shame.

(courtesy of waymarking.com)

The memories I hold from those days are on the vague side, but not vague enough to be totally blurry. I can still clearly picture its layout: The drop-off box outside (I always thought it was so cool), the check-out counter on the left side in the front of the store, the posters which hung on the walls behind the cash registers, the dark shelves which held the films - first VHS tapes then gradually DVDs - , the extra shelving space in the form of a big white rack in the middle of the floor space, the tags that you had to pick up off of a hook under the movie that you wanted to check out, the popcorn machine that was in use occasionally, the TV which sat a small shelf in the front, playing movies from Elvis musicals to new releases...

I even remember, at one point, seeing a melted VHS on display on the check-out counter as a warning to patrons NOT to leave our tapes in the heat. I will always remember that visual. Who wouldn't?!

(courtesy of buzzfeed.com)

When Great River Video closed in April 2009, I remember feeling a large piece of my childhood go with it. The last memory I have of Great River Video is the final sale they held to get rid of the rest of their movie inventory. I remember going to the sale after getting back from an academic team competition. That was my freshman year in high school. It seems so long ago.

The Blockbuster in town closed its doors about four years ago. It seems like much longer. Today, in a town of roughly 18,000 people, not one video store remains. We have several Red Box kiosks, but they don't even come close.

Today, precious few video stores exist. The ones that exist are now novelty shops. Every so often, I will come across one when I'm traveling. If you're lucky, you may have the chance to find one in some big college town amidst the vintage clothing stores and psychic shops. Do yourself a favor and walk inside.

The internet is a beautiful thing. Sometimes. While I cannot say something negative about streaming services like Netflix without balancing it out with a positive comment, I will say that I can never fully love streaming services because of what they replaced. The convenience of streaming is awesome, but it doesn't allow you to step inside a building filled with movies and talk to the owner about an awesome movie from 1963 that you just discovered.

Visiting the video store wasn't just walking through the door, picking up a movie, and checking out. It was more than that. It was what my fourth grade self looked forward to on Friday afternoons.

It was an art.