On paper, these scissors ROCK.
And so, the saga comes to an end. As with every instalment, I promise you every moment and word of this is true.
Here’s part one, part two, and part three, if you’re joining late.
And now…the conclusion.
I’ve edited down the conversation with the guy at the lost and found. He actually told me quite a bit about his mother and his life as a child in Canada and Armenia. It was very touching how much my scissors mattered to this guy. And to me. And to the nice lady at Air Canada.
Somehow, in a world spinning into chaos, one little thing went right on one day last month.
I’m holding onto that.
Ty the Guy OUT!
Oh, one last thing…
That’s me, my mother and the scissors. The photo was taken last night, on the one month anniversary of their return. My mother said to me, “I never gave you those scissors, you know. you just took them. Technically, they’re still mine.”
There’s an archive of old Bun Toons if you click here. Some are funny. None of the other stories are anywhere near this long, or about scissors, so you’re safe from that, going forward.
Ty Templeton's ART LAND!! 
Well, I’m all choked up.
This was awesome. Thank you so much for sharing it.
Aww. What a sweet story.
Here is an interesting thing, and I am not sure if it’s true as I didn’t get a good look at those scissors. My grandfather was a tailor. He worked at a sewing shop in downtown Toronto for years and then out of his basement workshop for the rest of his life, until his eye sight went in his nineties and he couldn’t sew clothing anymore. He made a lot of my dad’s clothes and even some of ours. When he died, we were left his scissors. They are older and rusted. They obviously haven’t been used in years. But from I saw, your mom’s scissors look a lot like his. And I more than understand how it would feel like if they had been taken away from me.
Suffice to say I am glad you shared this story with us.
I love this story so much! 🙂
Thank you, Ty!
I’ve loved your Scissor Saga, today’s instalment was a tear jerker — my mom and grand-mother both had scissors like that too. I’ve known a lot of people that have never seen the significance of seemingly, ordinary objects. Their worlds must be a little less magical. Thank you for sharing this tale, it was wonderful to see that the world still has dreamers, and how important it is to cherish our positive moments!
Adam Martin
Sent from my iPad
>
This is so great. Thank you for a really warm smile that won´t go away for hours.
Thanks, Ty – been reading your Bun Toons for years and never commented before, but this lovely tale warmed this old man’s heart so felt I had to say thanks.
This was fantastic. Thanks for telling this story Ty.
Can we call these scissors “Martha” now? Great story!
I loved this story. Glad to see you’re feeling better.
Awwww! That’s the sweetest story I’ve read about a pair of scissors. In fact, the only story I’ve ever read about a pair of scissors. Now I want to give my daughter a pair that I’ve had since she was a baby…
I’m not crying you’re crying!
I knew you couldn’t tell us they were gone after this many installments. YAY for the lost and found people!
And I love that “punchline” with your mom!
Thank you for sharing this lovely story. Calling my mom tomorrow.
What a great saga. What a fabulous ending. Thank you.
Thank you for writing and sharing this; you have no idea – or, in fact, I’m sure you do – how much we need stories of kindness and decency right now.
During all four chapters of this story, no one is unkind or unpleasant to me. Neither the guy who took the scissors, or the cop/security guy who wouldn’t take my bribe (or my suffering wife) was unpleasant to me. I believe, the second guard was trying to be helpful with his warning to get back early. I’m still not sure if he was wrong about the weekly warehouse clearing out, or if the guys at Lost and Found made a point to keep my scissors from being shipped off to the warehouse like they were supposed to be, because they’d been told the story of my scissors having once been my mother’s. (They clearly knew about my mother, because I never brought it up.) Either way, everyone involved went out of their way to be helpful, which was a big point of the story. Many people had to participate in kindness to get the outcome we had.
BUT….
I’m VERY aware that my white privilege played a huge part. I can hope that the story of a young Muslim or African man in his twenties, trying to get back a pair of scissors at an airport would have gone as well. I like to think all the people I encountered would have made the same effort, but I met some great people.
Living in Canada is also part of the story. We’re a country of immigrants and minorities (especially in the cities) and the best way we all get along is to remember that “politeness” reputation isn’t a myth. You help each other out in a country where winter weather can literally kill you in thirty minutes.
Ty the Guy
Great story, Ty.
Wonderful story Ty! You, along with everyone else connected to this story make me proud to hail from a nation of understanding, practical minded individuals. I share your hope, in that, all Canadians remember that our “politeness” isn’t a myth! Thanks again!
Well, that was the most awesome story ever.
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thank you for a happy ending