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帕克的五金店眼看就要迎来120岁生日，却在大型仓储式杂货店的不断冲击下关门大吉。原本生活中简单的小乐趣——发现之乐、改装之乐、动手之乐、创意之乐、邻里闲聊之乐……亦随之消逝。 By Robert Klose The rumor proved all too bitterly true: Park’s Hardware, a downtown institution of Orono, Maine, since 1898, would be closing. Word spread quickly. Locals cajoled, cross-examined, and pleaded with Lin, the owner of the store, to no avail. Running a small, local, family-owned hardware business was no longer a profit maker. The town’s affection for Park’s Hardware was just not enough to allow it to prevail against the giant warehouse stores that loomed, discount-laden, down the road in Bangor. I was one member of the milling masses that began to filter through Park’s as, day by day, the wax lettering on the front window changed from “20% OFF EVERYTHING” to “30%,” “40%,” and on and on, like the death of a thousand cuts until the only things left were the light sockets and doorknobs. It’s a difficult thing to see a hardware store go. A hardware store is special because it sells the things that allow us to indulge our tinkering habits, can-do-it-ness, and creativity, and in the process improve our immediate surroundings to suit our tastes. There are few things more satisfying than a new coat of paint on a weary wall, or a new lock set requiring only the knowledge of how to spin a screwdriver. From such a small investment of cash and time, a hardware store affords one a wholesale return of satisfaction. | 
