It is nearly impossible to describe the fond memories of my youth on the west side of Idaho Falls that this simple photograph conjured up when posted in a Facebook group the other night. I can remember so many miles spent on bicycles zooming down there after a morning spent doing household chores or mowing lawns. Whether it was at home on Cameron or at Grandma and Grandpa’s (or a neighbor’s) on Jeri, if I had $5-$10 in hand (and after some conspiring with my brothers and our friends) I was probably headed to Walkers where we would shortly descend like locusts borne on Huffy bicycles. We had all the time in the world, not a care in it, a decent amount of spending money, and were ready to spend hours browsing the shelves searching for the perfect combination(s) of VHS tapes, video games, and snacks—and spend the time we did.
The acute nostalgia I feel and the fondness for and of the memories I have of Walkers are not rooted solely in any of the resulting activities. Watching grainy VHS tapes, playing “Retro” or “Classic” video games on some of the original consoles to hit US markets, or the fact that the sugary snacks probably kept a nearby dentist’s office in business was just our life at the time. Those things are certainly present in the intense yearning I currently feel, however they are but pieces of a whole—components of a time capsule. These adventures are but one link to times and places that are largely unknown to so many people younger than am I.
If you have never lived in Idaho Falls, are under 35, or are new to Idaho Falls you’ve likely never heard of Walker’s, saw Walker’s in its heyday, or know little of any of the businesses that used to sit on or around the Northwest corner of Skyline and Broadway during that time. Some of what I consider to be great parts of life on the west side during the 80s and early 90s had their homes there–IGA, Skyline Drug, Leo’s Place, Olan Mills, and Ben Franklin were all thriving. Immediately West of that sat the expansive retail and greenhouse spaces of City Floral and Garden Center.
The entirety of the buildings that housed Walker’s and every other business on that list has been lost to the voids of time, growth, and change. The strip mall that housed Walkers and others has not existed in over a decade—torn down in late 2014 to make room for the Walgreen’s and its parking and streetside landscaping. City Floral has been gone for roughly the same amount of time, closing after the Holmgren’s deaths. Google maps reveals images of foundations and cracked pavement; structures demolished but not quite erased from the earth or memories.
It was a different time and a drastically different world. People (largely) knew their neighbors, shopped in many of the same physical stores they had for generations, and the internet was unknown or in its infancy. Relatively few homes had computers when compared to today, and the plethora of interconnected devices or streaming services were nonexistent. The easy access to a wide variety of media we take for granted today was years away, not found on the phone in our pocket, on a laptop, or a tablet.
Your time was truly a valuable—and valued—asset. The choices about how to spend that time, who you spent it with, and what filled that time were products of intent, not an accident of an algorithm or mass media advertising campaigns oozing from every screen you touched. Everything about the experience was a conscious choice–who to go with, how many or what kind of movies or video games to rent, the snacks you wanted, who’s home you were going to go enjoy them all in, and who was invited.
What made Walker’s (and many of the other businesses I mentioned) truly special was not so much the ritual of going there, browsing the aisles chalk full of physical media of varying kinds, smelling the buttery popcorn that was always cooking, the flowers blooming or freshly cut from the greenhouse, or wandering the aisles of toys, candy, and scented craft supplies. It was, hands down, the time—time in those places, simpler times, and times with the people we called friend or family.
Beyond simple memories of times gone by, these reminiscences of Walker’s and other businesses are artifacts from a now distant era, fading into the mists of time and space, lovingly placed in a time capsule. This capsule contains slices of time from so many lives — young, old, and everywhere between – time and, in more than a few cases, lives now gone by.
It is a place, a time, and freedom from a world that I sorely miss.
September 2025
Portland, OR
Mr Curly's Adventures 