John B. Marek is a storyteller with dirt under his nails who weaves tales inspired by a lifetime immersed in nature. His insightful essays and award-winning fiction delve into the complexities of sustainable living, the heart of rural communities and the thrill of outdoor adventure. You can find more of his writing at johnbmarek.com.
Despite my family’s modest finances, I received some wonderful presents on Christmas morning over the years. A Lionel train, an Electro-Shot shooting gallery and a 10-speed bike stand out as particular favorites. However, there were also some puzzling gifts under the tree. If you grew up in the 1970s, you probably received an unsolicited wood-burning set for Christmas at some point. Much like polyester leisure suits and avocado-colored appliances, these craft kits became an inexplicable hallmark of the decade, frequently appearing under Christmas trees across America.
Manufactured mainly by companies such as NSI and the American Toy and Furniture Co., these sets typically came in distinctive orange-and-brown boxes decorated with images of children happily burning designs into wooden plaques. Inside, you would find the essential components: a pen-like burning tool with interchangeable tips, several pieces of balsa wood or pre-cut plaques, and transfer patterns featuring designs ranging from peace signs to wildlife scenes.
The mystery wasn’t in what these sets contained but rather in why they became such a ubiquitous gift choice. Parents across America seemed to operate under a collective delusion that their children were secretly harboring an intense desire to burn images into wood. The reality was quite different: Most kids had never expressed the slightest interest in wood burning, nor had they ever witnessed anyone engaging in this particularly niche craft.
What made these sets particularly memorable was their inherent contradiction. They were simultaneously dangerous enough to be exciting (after all, they involved a tool that heated up to 950 degrees Fahrenheit) yet boring enough to ensure that most would be abandoned after one or two half-hearted attempts at creating a decorative coaster for Mom. The typical progression went something like this: initial excitement at receiving a “grown-up” tool, followed by the discovery that creating attractive designs required far more patience and skill than the box art suggested, culminating in the set being relegated to the back of a closet, where it would gather dust alongside the chemistry set from the previous year.
My parents, apparently interpreting my lack of wood-burning enthusiasm as a sign that the first set was sub-par, doubled down and gifted another, even bigger, set a few years later. This led to the curious situation of my closet accumulating multiple wood-burning sets, the second as unused as the first.
The phenomenon of wood-burning sets illustrates a broader truth about Christmas gifts in the 1970s: they often reflected what adults believed children should want rather than what children actually desired. Before video games and advanced electronics took over wish lists, craft sets exemplified parental aspiration for their children to cultivate wholesome hobbies that combined creativity with practical skills.
Today, these vintage wood-burning sets can be found in thrift stores and estate sales across the country, many still in near-mint condition – a reflection of their status as one of the decade’s most well-intentioned but least-used gifts. They serve as precious reminders of a time when parents nationwide were convinced that what their children really needed was the ability to burn decorative patterns into wooden surfaces.
For those of us who received these sets, they remain a quintessential symbol of 1970s childhood – not because we ever became accomplished wood burners, but because they so perfectly encapsulate the endearing disconnect between what adults thought would delight us and what actually did. And somewhere, in attics across America, these wood-burning sets still wait, their potential masterpieces forever unburned.