The One Thing Lowe’s Gets Right
- Josh :) grateful
- Nov 8
- 3 min read
I’ve got history with Home Depot.
Not like “I pop in a lot” history — I mean formative years history. One of my first real jobs was under those big orange letters back when we only had one Home Depot in town. Before Lowe’s even knew our zip code existed.
Back then, RIDGID didn’t make drills, drivers, or any of the stuff I now haul around daily. Nope. They made plumbing tools. Period. And now? My whole tool bag is RIDGID. Accidental brand loyalty. My uniform matches my tools, matches my belt, matches my hat — hell, matches my soul. I walk into Home Depot and it feels like I’m stepping into my natural habitat. The smell of lumber and propane exhaust? That’s childhood cologne, baby.
And here’s the thing:
At Home Depot, you can find what you need.
The store layout was designed by someone who has actually built something before. The only question I ever ask an associate there is, “Where’s the bathroom?” — and even then, I already know, I just need confirmation to be polite.
Now…
Let’s talk about Lowe’s.
I want to like Lowe’s.
I really do.
My favorite color is blue. My other favorite color is orange. (And no, this has nothing to do with the Broncos. Unless they’re playing the Raiders or Cowboys — then yes, I’m suddenly a lifelong Broncos fan.)
But Lowe’s… man…
Lowe’s is too clean.
Like… eerily clean.
It’s like walking into a hardware store that wants to be a spa.
Too quiet.
Too HGTV.
Too “throw pillows in a basket and call it a renovation.”
And don’t get me started on their aisle organization.
Why are toilet repair parts across from smoke detectors?
Who is out here thinking, “I need to fix the flange—but while I’m here, let me consider fire safety”?
I can’t find anything in there.
Every trip to Lowe’s feels like a scavenger hunt designed by someone who has never touched a hammer but watches a lot of “weekend makeover” shows.
But here’s where Lowe’s has my heart:
They honor our Veterans.
Not with sales.
Not with commercials.
Not with “one day in November where we all say thank you so loud it stops meaning anything.”
They honor them every single day in the simplest, most meaningful way possible:
They give them a place of honor to park.
Front row.
No questions.
No politics.
No spectacle.
A quiet gesture that says:
We see you.
We respect you.
We remember that you gave something most of us never had to.
In a world where everyone is screaming about something — Lowe’s found a way to speak softly and say more.
Because the reality is:
Our service members carry things we’ll never see.
They return home to battles that don’t end just because their deployment did.
They miss people who didn’t make it back.
They shoulder the cost of a freedom we treat casual.
Parking spots aren’t enough.
Not even close.
But they’re something.
They’re a pause.
A reminder.
A nod without a speech.
So yeah — I’ll still push my truck past Lowe’s nine times out of ten.
I’ll still get lost in their aisles and mutter under my breath about smoke detectors and toilet flanges.
But when I do park there…
I park next to the Veteran spots — not in them —
and I take a second.
A real one.
Because these men and women deserve more than one weekend in November.
They deserve more than platitudes.
More than politics.
They deserve a country that acts with gratitude, not just talks about it.
And if the front row in a parking lot is the reminder that keeps that gratitude awake?
Then may we put those signs up everywhere.
If you’re looking for a way to say thank you that’s more than words, more than a weekend, more than applause — support the ones still carrying the weight.
My family stands with
America’s Mighty Warriors — a foundation serving Gold Star families and Veterans returning home with visible and invisible wounds.
They don’t make statements.
If you feel called to give, here they are:
Not charity.
Not politics.
Just honor — lived out loud.
For those who've served, thank you for your service.
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