For us, Santa materialized outside Lakeside Shopping Center inside a gigantic fiberglass mountain, complete with artificial snow and Christmas Music. I, like millions of other children, was convinced it came from Santa Claus.Īfter receiving it, we (and by “we,” I mean all the children of Colorado) would fight over it with our siblings, and spend every waking minute of the next four weeks pouring over it, memorizing the page number and description of every item we wanted so we could list it for our parents and more importantly recite it in person for Santa Claus when we met him at the mall. If you were lost in the Rockies around the end of November a peppermint helicopter would drop a German shepherd into the snow and she would bring you your Sears Wish Book held gently in her jaws. You received a birth certificate, a social security number, inoculations for Rubella and Polio, and a chip that was implanted in your forehead that would radio your location to Sears so you could receive your Sears Wish Book on time. In Colorado, at least, there were several things that were automatic after you were born.

It arrived on your doorstep around Thanksgiving. It was about an inch to an inch and a half thick. For those of you too young for this reference, the Wish Book was Sears Christmas catalog. Every December I’d make a list of things I wanted for Christmas based entirely on the contents of the Sears Wish Book. As a kid, I don’t remember begging for much.

Cold snap art