The Hardware Store

Its name says exactly what it is, “The Hardware Store”. It’s in Wildwood Crest, New Jersey. It’s a throwback to a small town hardware store. There are four or five pull in parking spots that allow you to park just feet from the door. They have some big stuff outside like the trash cans and the propane tanks. But when you walk inside, you are enveloped into a close, orderly world of narrow aisles and perfectly organized items on selves and hooks. There is a little white fluffy dog that greets you. It approaches calmly, and accepts some friendly pats on the head. The counter sets right in the middle of the store. The man and women who work there will help you find anything, and they seem to have everything. Nails, screws, tools, paint, cleaning supplies, hoses, tarps. It’s like the clown car in the circus. Stuff just keeps coming at you. I’ve even bought a door stop and a three foot wooden stake to support a leaning bush. You might be thinking, “What’s the big deal? This guy needs to get a life.”

Places like this have been disappearing for years. They can’t compete against the big box stores like Home Depot and Lowes. But going into those stores is like going into the Air and Space Museum. They can be overwhelming. Sometimes it takes several minutes just to get oriented and figure out what aisle to start down. And then try to find the person in the orange vest to get some help. They are usually helpful once you get their attention, and they don’t have to find another person in an orange vest who really knows how to find what you need. But it’s really not personal. There are huge shelves with numbers and letters that you have to follow to find the item you want. They, of course, will have stuff the small hardware store will not. But I never feel the same when I walk out.

My father was a lot handier than I.  He used to go to the hardware store a lot. He always seemed to get what he needed. But small, privately owned hardware stores are not the only business that’s been overtaken by the big corporations. Small diners have been replaced by fast food places, and even places like Dunkin Donuts and Wawa where you can get breakfast, lunch, or even dinner. Small pharmacies have been closing for years because they can’t compete with CVS, Walgreens, and Rite Aid.

I’m not arguing against progress, or yearning for the good old days when things really weren’t as good as we might remember. These small businesses were neighborhood meeting places where people knew each other, and actually spoke face to face. We live on a suburban street. We have neighbors right across the street who I couldn’t identify. We have neighbors who lived next door for over thirty years. We didn’t have a close relationship, but they picked up and moved without even telling us. Maybe we should have made a better effort to be friendlier. But we were involved in our own lives.

We are living in an age of hyper speed and short attention spans. Things are bigger. Gratification can be instantaneous. We want things done five minutes ago. We are all spoiled. I include myself. Which brings me back to The Hardware Store. It’s a tiny world full of many things right at your fingertips. I’ve gone there many times thinking they aren’t going to have what I’m looking for, and I’m going to have to drive to the big box store to speak with the guy in the orange vest. But The Hardware Store has never disappointed me. I always walk out with a feeling of satisfaction, and look forward to returning to a warm place where you are greeted by a friendly face, and a little fluffy white dog.