As a child, a serious and tool-minded young boy, I wandered the narrow aisles of Kilian's, gazing…read moreup at hatchets, bird feeders, drill bits, and the floor-to-ceiling selection of nails, screws, nuts, and bolts. My father, in an adjacent aisle, assessed clamp sizes or perhaps compared different hose fixtures for build quality and features. The worn wooden floor and musty scent already percolating into my childhood memory: this was a place I went with my dad, this was a thing I did with my dad.
Now, as a grown man, I watch my own son peak into drawers of copper nails, fidget with the array of door handles and hinges, or pull dowels out of the cubby and look for room to swing them. Will he have a son? Will Kilian's still be here for them?
Of course this place doesn't have the selection of Lowe's, how could it!? The whole of Kilian's is barely the size of the barbecue display at Lowe's. If you want the experience of a big box store that has almost everything, and is the same in every city or town, and where no one cares about anything, don't come to Kilian's. But if you want to talk to a real person about what concrete anchors they recommend, or about which adhesives work best for pressure treated lumber, you could do worse.
If, however, you're like me and you're chasing the circle of existence, the cycle of living and dying, raging against the tide of nihilistic despair that is this age of necrotic empire, squeezing meaning out of this life through sheer force of will, then let go of your child's hand and let them wander the antiquated aisles of this institution, let them learn for themselves what a real hardware store is like.
