Column: Arkansas hospitality takes Shelbyville to next level

Dear readers,

I was waiting in line for some sweet swag at the recent grand opening of Walmart when I overheard an old-timer say, “This is the most electrifying event to hit Shelbyville since the Watsons’ Pool Girl shook the dust off the Bears of Blue River Festival!”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. The entire town had been buzzing for a month just like Walmart’s old fluorescent light bulbs before the remodel. And when those automatic doors slid open for the grand reopening, a huge new mural greeted the faithful Walmart shoppers, a salute to Shelby County including a tractor and cornfield.

Viewing the mural (photo) appeared to be almost a religious experience for some shoppers in our remodeled temple of low prices and high dreams.

“The Tao of Sam Walton” was the theme of the grand reopening. 

There, parked behind velvet ropes like some kind of blue-collar relic, sat a 1979 Ford F-150 pickup truck. It was the same model Sam himself drove until the day he left this earth in 1992. A monument to simplicity in a palace of plenty. A reminder that Sam’s reign ended the same way it began -- with humility. 

And customers who rolled up in an F-150 for the grand reopening celebration got the royal treatment. A Walmart associate greeted them in the parking lot with a swag bag stuffed with Sam’s favorite things including a coupon for 25% off hunting and fishing gear. Because Sam didn’t just sell ammo and fishing poles, he lived it.

Sam Walton was a paradox wrapped in flannel and denim driving a pickup truck. Born in the 1920s, he was a Depression-era kid who milked cows, delivered papers, and grew up without indoor plumbing – and a member of the Greatest Generation who served in World War II.

After the war, he started behind the counter of a Ben Franklin five-and-dime, but his vision couldn’t be contained by glass jars and penny candy. Sam saw a future where people in small towns like Shelbyville wouldn’t have to drive to Indianapolis or Greenwood where Sears had relocated. And so, Wal-Mart Discount City was born, a place where everything was stacked deep and sold cheap.

Sam built Walmarts like Johnny planted apple seeds, everywhere. He became one of the richest men in the world and what did he do? Chewed tobacco, drove that same beat-up F-150, and rode around with his dog Ol’ Roy. While the suits running Sears were busy enjoying the view from the tallest building in the world, Sam ran them out of business.

And our Walmart’s grand reopening? They didn’t just honor Sam, they channeled him.

Free cupcakes for everyone, passed out by associates smiling like they’d just won the lottery. Grocery carts filled with Sam’s favorite ice cream, Great Value Butter Pecan, because even retail saints have a sweet tooth. Coca-Cola, Pepsi, snacks, energy drinks, all handed out to loyal Walmart shoppers, no purchase necessary.

But the big surprise for me, the holy moment of truth, came at the checkout. Instead of the usual guilt-trip round-up for some far-off charity you’ve never heard of, you could round up for the Blue River Community Foundation. Money staying right here. helping real people. real neighbors.

After all, “charity begins at home”, Sam always said. When you round up at the checkout, it is your money being donated to charity. Now it can stay right here in Shelby County.

Epilogue: I have made the pilgrimage to Bentonville, Arkansas.  I walked in the footsteps of Sam Walton. I saw his famous Ford F-150 pickup truck.

I don’t know if I ate too much butter pecan ice cream at the recent grand reopening or what. But after writing my awesome column, I learned that some of the things I described were a product of my imagination.

Most importantly, Walmart still does not allow us to round-up at the checkout for a local charity.  But I’m working on it.

See you all next week, same Schwinn time, same Schwinn channel.