All good things must come to an end

My dad rocking an iconic DeJulio's tshirt.

When my dad told me he and his brother, co-owners, might close the family business I didn't believe him. I was more than slightly intoxicated when he told me and didn't remember the conversation the next morning, but I still didn't believe it at the time. He told me again the next week, sober, and I cried in my car while eating a loaf of Italian bread. That time I believed him and remembered it. All good things must come to an end.

For the past 30 years, my dad has owned and managed an army-navy store in my hometown of Syracuse, NY. Our last name is attached to the name of the store (DeJulio's Army-Navy Store) so for the past 21 years everyone I have come into contact with from teachers to friends' parents to employers have constantly asked me if I'm somehow distantly related to the store. I would answer so simply and dumbly that my father owned it and would shrug it off like it was nothing and people would gush and be so incredibly impressed by something that was part of my everyday life. My dad owned the coolest business. I can't go anywhere with my dad without him stopping and talking to someone and he would always tell me he knew them from the store.

This is the only way I have ever known my father. He has the store. The store is he. This is how I identified him. I was so incredibly proud of my father for having, owning and being part of something so unique. For having, owning and being part of something that has been around since 1942 nonetheless. Classmates would sing the DeJulio's theme song at me whenever they saw me in the hallways of school and I would have to awkwardly stare and laugh at them for 30 seconds and it would always be the longest 30 seconds of my day. But I want those terribly awkward 30 seconds back.

These past two weeks I have been working at the pride and joy of Syracuse (#unemployed/#postinternship). The amount of stories I have heard about my family store as I work the register fill my heart and soul with pride. I have heard numerous people tell me they have been going there for 50 years to buy work boots, tents, hiking supplies, everything. Old men tell me they remember when my grandfather worked there. I tell them the same thing. I've heard stories about relatives I've never even heard of (my dad has a cousin who's an amazing guitarist and is famous in California apparently). I didn't realize my dad's store might have had this impact on the community but it has ever since it opened. It's part of the community and other people's lives too. Not just my family's. I could never go anywhere with my dad without him stopping to talk to someone and after he would tell me he knew that person from "the store." Today a man with a ponytail pointed at me and shouted, "You sold me a sleeping bag!" Yes I did, sir! This isn't just my store. It's everyone's.

My family store is a part of this city as much as it is a part of me. Others tell me they are stocking up on the iconic DeJulio's logo tshirts and I of course tell them I had to do the same. People tell me it's a shame and a tragedy that a local business that has been around since 1942 is closing and I couldn't agree more. I've heard the store is "a fixture to the community" and we are "disrespecting Syracuse" by closing it. But all good things must come to an end. That's what I keep telling myself. Who will I be after this? I feel like such a large part of my life is ending, but this hasn't been my entire life. How will I associate my dad and uncle after this? The family business is their entire life.

Working alongside my dad, uncle, aunt, cousins, and their employees these past two weeks has been an honor. DeJulio's served the Syracuse-area and everyone in it for so long. Nobody will be forgetting DeJulio's anytime soon. I loved this place. I love this place. And so many others do too. I refer to it as "the 666" (located at 666 Burnet Avenue - I'm always happy when I can refer to Satan) or "the store," because there are no other stores. Just this store. It's hard to sum up in words what this store means to me but I have tried. Remember to shop local.