I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the Sears Company. Back when it was called Sears, Roebuck, and Company we regularly got their thick catalogs from which we ordered everything from toys and clothes to farm supplies, including day-old baby chicks. Those catalogs provided a pleasurable way to pass time by drooling over things we often dreamed of possessing but could never have. I remember sitting by a window on rainy days and daydreaming about what I would do with various, coveted items as I perused the Sears catalog. It’s why they were commonly called wishbooks.
Frank NeSmith, Columnist
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