A couple of weeks ago I finally wandered into one of those giant suburban liquor stores, the ones that are either a sign of the impending apocalypse for mom-and-pop stores, or just a deeply discounted party stop for adults, depending on your worldview.

At the back of the store, a woman sitting at a table quietly inquired if we were in favor of Sunday liquor sales. My companion was in favor, so the woman looked up the names of her legislators and drafted a quick letter to them. Faster than you could throw back a shot of tequila, we had become players in a perennial political battle.

My thought at the time was that this issue would have practically no impact on me and that it was the ultimate example of our fixation on First World problems.

But after listening to the fascinating debate in the Minnesota Senate Thursday, I found that this is what we talk about when we talk about Sunday booze: Religion and religious tradition, separation of church and state, the free market, the slow death of small towns, conflicting moral values, the importance of the independent vendor, competition with border states and the acknowledgment that we are becoming a society where we can get everything we want, anytime we want it, whether you like it or not.

"It's one of these stories where highfalutin rhetoric collides with cold cash," said Larry Jacobs, a political scientist from the University of Minnesota. "This debate was absolutely fascinating, even exceptional, and it was bipartisan. It was almost a throwback to another era."

Several senators said they had no intention of talking about this issue, but were driven by personal anecdote or pleas from constituents. One, Sen. David Senjem, R-Rochester, even encouraged legislators to tap their "philosophical inner being" on the vote, in which repeal lost again, but only by a margin of 35-28.

Others said they've recently changed their minds and now support a repeal of the law. One was Sen. Dan Hall, R-Burnsville. "To me, it's a free market bill," said Hall. "All arguments are lost on my constituents. It makes absolutely no sense and I have no answer for them. Things change. Our country's changed."

"This is a strange day when I'm siding with Senator Dibble," said Sen. David Osmek, R-Mound. Osmek found it interesting that liquor store owners, who sell a product that can be destructive to families, then want Sundays off to spend with their own.

"We'll sell you something that can be anti-family but on the seventh day we won't sell it to you because we want more time with our own family," he said.

Sen. Julie Rosen, R-Vernon Center, implored her colleagues not to repeal the Sunday ban because it would ruin the small margins of municipal stores, whose proceeds pay for local projects.

Another speaker said the advantages Sunday sales would give to large chains could lead to "the regionalization of rural Minnesota," as stores in small towns died off.

What was different in the debate this year, said Jacobs, was a sense of inevitability of the change. Or as Senjem put it: "Every one of us knows, to a person, that it's not 'if,' it's 'when' " Sunday sales will be allowed.

"It's a good example of capitalism vs. community," said Jacobs. "It's the inexorable drive of the market to define our life, for better or worse. That this [change] would really hurt a small number of individuals is undeniable," yet most Minnesotans will be largely unaffected.

Joe Widmer, spokesman for Minnesota Beer Activists, disagrees with Jacobs that a negative impact on independents is certain, but he agrees with the sense that the state is at, or near, the tipping point.

"You had all these senators getting up and saying, 'this is going to happen,' " Widmer said. Both Jacobs and Widmer disagree with predictions that the issue is dead this year, and say they wouldn't be shocked if it gets attached to another bill at the end of the session.

By the end of the debate, legislators were lauding each other for the thoughtful and civil discourse in which many opposing viewpoints had some veracity, or at least some passionate back story.

Legislators often show up on the floor knowing the script and what part they are supposed to play according to party lines. Jacobs said that this debate was unusual in that when someone stood up, you really didn't know what they were going to say.

"It was kind of like off-the-grid politics," said Jacobs. "They felt freed by the party; hey, we each get to be the people we are."

"Now imagine the debate if they had the same creativity, freedom and moral issues when they discussed the budget," Jacobs said.

jtevlin@startribune.com 612-673-1702

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