Back before Al Gore (or whoever) invented the interwebs, retailers like Sears and Montgomery Ward produced thick, colorful catalogs laden with merchandise. The introduction of the latest catalog into a household was a big deal. Sometimes siblings might even fight over who got the first pass at such a rich treasure trove of goodies.
Sears was the shizzle when Amazon was only associated with rain forests and tribes of warrior women. Their catalog, dubbed by some as the “wish book,” was for all intents and purposes an encyclopedia of the American dream.
The traditional department stores (Marshall Field’s, Wanamaker’s) sold higher-end fashion, but Sears had made its reputation selling less expensive but necessary items: socks, underwear, towels and bedding, which helped keep sales going even during the Depression. Sears also sold house kits. Yes, you could actually buy a house from the catalog and from 1908 to 1940, Sears sold between 70,000 to 75,000 homes.
In 1968, the Sears & Robuck catalog boasted 225 pages of toys and 380 pages of gifts for adults, for a grand total of 605 pages. Included in those 600+ pages were musical instruments: specifically, guitars and drum sets.
Probably around this time, or perhaps a year or two later, I became fixated with looking at and wishing I could have a drum kit. I’m sure I mentioned this to my parents and I can only imagine a response that went something like, “you are not getting a drum set—I’m not going to have you banging on drums at all hours of the day.” Or something akin to that type of denial. I was raised on negative reinforcement.
If not a drum kit, then maybe my parents would let me have a guitar. Sears also sold guitars. This began in the 1950s and by the 60s, their house brand, Silvertone, was their biggest seller. These guitars were made for Sears by manufacturers like Danelectro, Harmony, and Kay. They were the first guitar of guitar greats like Chet Atkins and Jimi Hendrix. Some of these guitars would later become a “thing” with collectors and musicians who couldn’t afford high-end brands axes by Fender and Gibson.
Jack White playing a remake (Eastwood Guitars) of the original Montgomery Ward Airline guitar.
In addition to Sears, Montgomery Ward also sold guitars via their mail-order catalog. Jack White of the White Stripes would bring attention back to the Ward “Airline” guitar, which was made from molded fiberglass, called “res-o-glass.” This guitar was unofficially named the “J.B. Hutto” model, for the famed blues guitarist who played the Montgomery Ward guitar.
Sears sold guitars.
No matter how much I pleaded, or how many times I left the catalog open to the page with guitars, Santa never brought me a guitar for Christmas. Would I have become a guitar player extraordinaire in my teens instead of a baseball phenom in high school? Who knows—it’s unlikely.
I’ve blogged about my journey becoming a writer. I seem to have a thing for picking up things later in life than most people do. I got serious about writing in my late 30s. I’ve mentioned Maine’s Stephen King and his book on writing as a catalyst in moving me beyond dabbling in writing to working a honing my craft.
Playing the guitar and mastering the instrument requires a similar commitment to the one I made with writing. I’ve learned that picking up the guitar for a mere 15 to 20 minutes a day delivers a return on that investment of time. Because I’ve tried to play every day for the past 10 months, I’m finally mastering the basic chords. I’m now stringing them together progressions. I’ve even begun knocking out some classic riffs, too.
Yesterday, Mrs. B and I made it over to the beach. We got to see a band we first saw Labor Day weekend in 2016. We had so much fun listening to that that we planned to make them a regular part of our summer routine. The trouble is that life rarely if ever follows a script delivering a trouble-free existence. Mark disappeared from our lives forever. We never made it back to see the band we enjoyed back in 2016.
I got to speak with Eric, the guitar player in Leaving Eden. He was headed out for a cigarette break between sets. I stood up and chatted him up about his playing and the band’s amazing ability to bring the fun to the pier at OOB. Somehow, I ended up sharing a bit about our past two years and losing Mark. He responded in an empathetic way to both of us that made me realize that in addition to being a skilled guitar player, he’s also a decent human being. That’s no small thing in my book.
Oh, and he also encouraged me to keep playing. That’s what I plan to do.