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			Christmas 1958, A Sears Blunder Creates a Holiday Extravaganza. By Mike Fak 
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            [January 12, 2011] 
            Ten 
			years old is a pretty good age to be. At least it was for me back in 
			1958. I had finally mastered my multiplication tables and could 
			spell most normal words, so school was starting to be less trying, 
			especially when I showed up for it  | 
		
            | I was 
			also at an age where toys were still important but I had shucked the 
			simple "kiddy" toys and was now into the serious "good stuff" kind 
			of toys that just came on the market in 1958. 
 At ten I knew that I still wasn't expected to buy much of anything 
			for my parents, or God knows my little sister Mary Ellen just yet. 
			Oh, I had Herald American and Chicago Daily News paper routes but 
			the eight bucks a month went just so far when a kid had bills to pay 
			such as baseball cards and those comic books that had just gone up 
			to 12 cents apiece.
 
 Being ten, I was now old enough to ask for those super toys like a 
			wood burning set that carried stories of kids burning their fingers 
			and that new, metal Alamo play set that all the stories were saying 
			were cutting the fingers off of youngsters. I was still young enough 
			however to not realize my decision to be a major league baseball 
			player was a long shot at best. Like I said, ten years old was a 
			great age to be.
 
			
			 
 I recall sitting on the floor as mom and dad went through the Sears 
			catalogue picking out things for my five-year-old sister as the 
			holiday neared. From time to time I would pop up and show them 
			something really neat that if they could afford it would make a 
			great gift for me. No doubt I jumped up a few dozen times that 
			night.
 
 The Sears book was the way millions of Americans did their holiday 
			shopping back then. Just pick out what you need, call in the order 
			and answer the door when the Sears delivery man showed up.
 
 As with all Christmases before or after 1958, my dad had his way 
			with me. Every time I mentioned something I could really use, he 
			replied I wasn't getting crap for Christmas. It came to be that when 
			dad said those words I could chalk that toy up as a given under the 
			Christmas tree that year.
 
 Little did I know that this Christmas, because of a blunder by Sears 
			I was about to have the all-time best Christmas in the history of 
			ten-year-olds.
 
 After mom and dad decided what stuff to buy my sister and me for 
			Christmas, mom ordered it all the next day on the phone as I was at 
			school. No doubt a real person operator told my mom it would be 
			arriving on or before the 22nd of December.
 
 Mom never could keep a secret and although I had to promise not to 
			look in the shipping boxes, I was told the delivery of my 
			materialistic Yule-tide cheer was coming on the 22nd of December. I 
			recall waiting for the truck to pull up to the apartment building on 
			Sheffield and for a Sears delivery man to bounce extreme tonnage of 
			toys up the three flights of stairs. Nothing happened all day.
 
 School was now out for the holiday and I recall sitting on the front 
			steps with my friends the next day telling them I didn't want to 
			stray too far less I wasn't there to "buzz" the Sears man in with my 
			plethora of toys. No one came that day either.
 
 I recall that night my mom and dad expressing concern about the 
			failure of the arrival of all the stuff they had ordered and mom got 
			on the phone and called Sears. I remember mom going uhhu, uhhu, over 
			and over again and then hanging up the phone with a look on her face 
			like she just found out a family member died. I recall her taking 
			dad quietly into the next room to relay her conversation with Sears 
			and I distinctly recall my father yelling out in that grandiose 
			vocabulary he had mastered about things not being exactly the way 
			they should be.
 
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			Without a pause, my dad put on his coat and promising out loud to 
			never use Sears again, left the apartment as mom came back to tell 
			me the terrible news. 
 It seems Sears had lost or misplaced a truck load of deliveries and 
			the one for us was included in this debacle. Mom explained dad had 
			gone out to see what he could find to replace all the good stuff 
			they had ordered for me and Mary Ellen.
 
 I remember a not very happy father coming back later that night with 
			armfuls of packages but he wasn't pleased with his purchases. "The 
			stores don't have s--- left" dad yelled at mom. I knew with those 
			words the Alamo set was history as well as the wood burner set and 
			the Wilson A2000 baseball mitt.
 
 
			Dad 
			told me at dinner he was sorry but many of the things I had asked 
			for were sold out and he did the best he could. Although young and 
			far too materialistic I remember telling dad I understood and that 
			it wasn't his or mom's fault that I was going to have a miserable 
			Christmas. 
 That all changed about 5:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve when the apartment 
			buzzer rang. Pressing the buzzer, I went to the door as mom was busy 
			in the kitchen. To my elation, a young man in a blue Sears' delivery 
			uniform was banging a wheeled cart full of presents up the stairs.
 
			  
			
			Yelling at mom to come quick and that a miracle had happened, I saw 
			my mom pensively look at the young man. It hadn't dawned on my young 
			mind that my parents couldn't afford two batches of toys for their 
			kids. As my mom explained to the young man she had already purchased 
			alternative items, he shook his head and told my mom not to worry 
			and that the packages were being sent without charge. Something 
			about Sears valuing their customers and wanting to make amends for a 
			shipment lost and then found meant the boxes carried no demand for 
			C.O.D. With that news, mom whisked the young man into the apartment 
			and gave him a cup of hot cocoa. 
			 
			
			 
 Yes that was a very special Christmas in 1958. I not only got the 
			all metal Alamo play set and a wood burning set but I got last years 
			hot toy, the all-metal Fort Apache as well and a whole bunch of 
			trivial toys that were just heaped in a pile as I worked furiously 
			to open and play with my double dose of Christmas materialism.
 
 I recall with fondness going back to school with blisters on two 
			fingers and band aids protecting cuts on the other eight. Yes, ten 
			years old was a great age to be. Thanks to a blunder by Sears.
 
 
			[MIKE 
			FAK] |