As a child and into my teenage years, a singular event announced that Christmas was comin’. That was on the day in early November each year when I went to the mailbox and discovered that the Sears Christmas Wish Book had arrived. I was so excited. I’d open the box to find a green or red-covered catalog filled with dreams. It was one of the happiest days of the year as I snatched it out, held it close to my chest, and ran to the house to show Mama. I wish I had a dollar for every hour that, over the years, I spent flipping through its pages filled with Barbie dolls, transistor radios, and canopy beds. I didn’t just browse. I studied it. I wished with all my heart. Over and over, I read the descriptions. I turned pages down and then I would get a piece of notebook paper and write down the toy or other item, the catalog number, and the price.
City planning commission again hears request from developer hoping to put 102 homes on Perimeter Road