Dec 5, 2022 3 min read

I was raised in the 1950s, when life was relatively simple – at least for a kid. My dad never held a job that paid more than minimum wage, and my mom never worked as other than a housewife. Yet I never wanted for anything. True, we never went out for dinner; trips to see a movie were few and far between. But my friends and I used our imaginations to stage games of cowboys and Indians, G.I.s vs. Nazis and even Pittsburgh Pirates vs. New York Yankees. When Christmastime rolled around each year, those fantasies were fueled by the mammoth Sears Roebuck & Co. “Wish Book” – its thick, heavy Christmas catalog.

So I was saddened last week to read an article in the CNN business section titled, “Is this the last Christmas for Sears?” Why? In a nutshell, Sears failed to adapt to changing retail trends over the years. As the CNN article points out, Sears was once the equivalent of Amazon and Walmart all rolled into one, with more than 3,500 stores in its chain in 2005, when Sears and Kmart merged. By the time the conglomerate was brought out of bankruptcy in 2019, only 223 Sears outlets remained. That total is now down to 15.

As do many things these days, reading that article brought back memories. I spent many an hour staring at the toys pictured in the Wish Book, marveling at the elaborate Tonka Toys construction scenes and model train sets. My parents couldn’t afford to buy everything I wanted. But, looking back, I can see what a sacrifice it must have been for my dad to buy even a relatively inexpensive Marx train set rather than the Lionel I coveted. After I grew out of toys, I’m not ashamed to admit that I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the women’s underwear section. You’ll see more skin on a televised beach volleyball broadcast now, but all things are relative.

I doubt if anyone my age hasn’t bought at least one item at Sears. Before the advent of Home Depot, Lowes and Harbor Freight, Sears was THE place to shop for tools – most of which were rated “Good, Better, Best.” It was a simplistic system for simpler times. But it worked. Dads could rely on even the Sears “Good” hammer to knock loose a recalcitrant wheel lug on a 1956 Rambler.

Mom was thrilled in 1970 when the first Sears store in our area opened at the Beaver Valley Mall. Sometime in the mid-1950s, she’d made my dad drive all the way to East Liberty just to but a large window-mounted house fan from Sears. Steeped in tradition, I bought a lot of stuff from Sears over the years: tools; toys; clothing; cooking utensils; appliances; Christmas decorations. My first digital alarm clock came from Sears in 1974, and its red LED numerals were still glowing when I retired it in 2011. Must’ve been Sears Best.

But not all my memories of Sears bring a smile to my face. We lived in a small town that required only a thin phone book. So if I couldn’t reach the dinner table as a kid, my mom used Sears catalogs to act as a temporary booster seat. I was a chubby kid, so Mom was forced to buy what used to be called “Husky” clothes for me. From Sears, of course.

I figure that if those Wish Books had been slightly thinner, so would I.