The Sears Wish Book Memories

Summer was over; I was back in elementary school, and my super soaked days of the past were all but erased from my memory. And as I slowly walked home from the bus stop I saw my future hanging out of the mail box: It was The SEARS WISH BOOK!

Running up, throwing my backpack onto the ground, and storming into my house I ran down the basement and drooled at the marvelous dreams that manifested themselves out of the shiny colored photographs. It was if I was in a trance while flipping back and fourth through the catalog. I could see my dreams, the bad ass new action figures I would soon posses. Like a teenage boy tearing though a Victoria Secret I was salivating as I sat on my basement couch in silence. The lights were dimmed, while my parents were unaware of the scheming their young child was doing beneath them.

The smell of the wish book is a smell that to this day still would make me want to break out the pen and paper and write Santa and tell him all about my deepest wants and desires. Not only did the wish books contain toys, costumes, and video games; but the catalog also had interactive pictures that placed those toys into scenes that you never saw in the movies. What's the millennium falcon doing there? Why is Batman flying in space? What the hell, that never happening in the freaking movies! I could create that, just like in those smelly, colorful, and shiny photo realistic pictures. My imagination was hooked, thanks Sears Wish book!

So hours later I would by then have blisters, black sharpie, notes torn up and drafts of wishes all over the basement floor. My mouth was wide open; my eight year old body laid tired on the floor in pure consumer originated ecstasy. Soon all of this would be mine; soon the day would come where I could make Yoda fight Boba Fett underground in the turtle's layer. Soon…This day would come my friends.

This is my tribute to the sears wish book. It was the finest bit of entertainment that ever came in the mail to me as a child. And still to this day, when the bills pile up and hang out of the blue box, I sit inside in the cold Michigan weather and remember the satisfaction that the edible magazine gave such a greedy eight year old bastard.