Dear Editor,
The news of Sears’ impending demise, though not a complete surprise, brought with it a wave of emotion that I had not expected.
Sears has been part of my world as long as I can remember. The wonderful, heavy, coloured catalogues full of virtually everything were like a window into the world of stuff.
As I grew up, I learned the predictable sections. “Lady-stuff” was always at the beginning, including a number of pages that my older sisters insisted that I not peruse. There was a jewelry section with selections at low, low prices suitable for consideration as tokens for my first and still true love.
Dad wasn’t a real jewelry guy but the catalogue’s selection of fine Kenmore appliances gave him a full breadth of gift ideas for Mom.
In high school I dreamed of buying a van and adding all the very coolest features – captain’s seats, bubble windows, murals – and all of this, and more, was available in the catalogue. And while, as a child, the Christmas Wishbook was the best. Later, it was the tool section. Craftsman tools have a lifetime warranty, my father used to tell me. If they break, they’ll replace them. Growing up on a farm, that was important. Almost all of Dad’s tools were Craftsman with a few exceptions of things he’d inherited over the years.
A few weeks ago, I went over to my mom’s place and patched his old Sears aluminum car top rowboat. I cut out a new transom using Dad’s old Craftsman radial arm saw and fastened it with a Craftsman screwdriver – being sure to use that other Canadian mainstay – Robertson head screws… and I thought about my dad. He’s been gone eight years now, but his collection of Craftsman tools remains for his kids and grandkids to use and appreciate and remember him. Soon, the warranty – so important to Dad – will no longer matter, but the memories will last a lifetime.
David Thomas, Langley