I thought I saw a new store front business in town, and it was a rock shop. Then I thought to myself, I must be mistaken. Nobody in their right mind starts a rock shop. Wow. Did I really say that out loud? I have been fighting this attitude for years, and I've blogged about it and raved about it, and now I've fallen prey to it myself. Yesterday I found an ad in the classified section of the local shopper. I was right. Someone has started a rock shop downtown.
My parents had a rock shop. So did my grandfather. My parents were told in both subtle and not so subtle ways that rocks are a hobby, not a business. As I see it my parents were beaten down by this attitude, persistent and relentless,
until they believed it themselves. I often wonder why the nosy neighbors and others (I don't really remember who it was) couldn't have afforded them the dignity of calllng it a seasonal business. Which it was. Kind of like a resort. They would have felt much better about themselves. Confidence and support might have pushed their enterprize into a more viable arena. My parents were too poor for hobbies and they used every dime for living expenses. Sometimes I could cry.
People try to pull that s*** on me too. When somebody stops in and refers to my hobby I try to set them straight but my first impulse is to say &%#@$%^. And no, this isn't a hobby farm. This is where my grandparents made a living and raised seven kids.
A new rock shop in town! Competition? No, not at all. Just wind in my sails.