The announcement from Sears seemed inevitable. Their Belden Village store, a long-time anchor of the Canton area mall, will close at the end of the year. The Richland Mall store has already closed, as have more across the country. The once-proud retailer has been surviving on fumes for the past few years, and the Belden Village store had already abandoned its second floor to a soon-to-open Dave and Buster’s Restaurant. The writing was on the wall.
I remember our family trips to the huge Sears store in Buffalo, located at Main and Jefferson, now Canisius College. It had an attached parking ramp, and I was a bit scared of its cavernous space as my dad’s Buick maneuvered up its narrow ramp. We didn’t go very often, but when we did, we’d get fresh roasted peanuts or cashews from the snack bar. Soon, Sears was opening a number of stores at the newfangled malls, and my family changed its shopping allegiance to the Sears in the suburbs, too sophisticated for a snack bar..
Sears, Roebuck and Company was founded in 1893, and initially began as a mail order catalog company. Both adults and children would pour over the pages when the catalog arrived, enjoying many an evening dreaming of what might appear under their Christmas tree. Now, with nearly all of its retail sites closed, Sears is returning to its roots, with customers still able to order from its on-line catalog. What goes around, comes around, I suppose.
I am sad to see such an iconic institution close its doors. Even though I didn’t visit very often (nor did many other customers), I hate to see Sears and so many retail stores close, because I enjoy the physical experience of shopping. As a new wife, I loved to seek out the blue-light specials at K-Mart, joining with a group of eager shoppers to chase a portable flashing light around the store. I want to feel the fabric of the nightgown, and walk a few feet in the new shoes to see if they’ll give me blisters. I don’t want to pack up the wrong-sized item for return, so it would probably live in the trunk of my car for months on its way to the donation box.
There’s also the thrill of searching through the clearance rack and landing the perfect find. It may not be exactly my color, but if it’s 80% off, who cares? Sure, there are sales on-line, but then I don’t have the satisfaction of the cashier saying, “You really got some good bargains today.”
Even though I spend quite a bit of time staring at the computer screen or on my phone each day, I still feel like I’m a step behind in using technology effectively. I can’t get used to shopping entirely on-line, even if the Amazon people deliver to my house and put my groceries away. Somehow, that seems like an abdication of my role as a woman of a certain age.
I hate putting a damper on my shopping fun, but there is one little issue to bring up before I finish. I’m not a hoarder by the psychological definition, but I do like to buy “stuff” for my grandkids, seasonal decorations for the house, canned soup I seldom eat, and books. I never want to run out of toilet paper, so I keep those shelves stocked too. I also appreciate having meaningful items surrounding me that speak of memory and inspiration, or reminders of time shared with precious people. Until I have to go to “the home,” I’m keeping my “stuff,” but attempting to curb my accumulating tendencies, at least until I find a new discount store.
There are days when I bemoan the changing times, and as I watch the demise of Sears as I knew it, I’m feeling the loss of an old friend, even if we weren’t that close in recent days. Face it, JoAnn. Bob Dylan was correct all those years ago when he crooned, “your old road is rapidly agin.” I may not like it, but “the times, they are a-changin’.” I’ve got news for you, Bob. Fifty-five years later, they’re still a-changin’!
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