Remember when?

By now we would have had the good books, kid style that is.  I couldn’t wait until the old Wishbooks came to the door. Despite all attempts by my parents to the contrary, I still grew up with the notion that Christmas was a magical time where I got tons and tons of presents.  I know, it was superficial, shallow, materialistic.  I know now the meaning of Christmas, what it’s all about, where the department stores end and the real traditions begin.  Still, I have to admit, it was a magical time in its own way.  Even by the release of this catalogue, at which time I was on may way toward turning ten years old, I still felt some magic in the air, even if it was due to my anticipation of coming down the stairs and seeing our tree surrounded by a stack of gifts.  Magic is magic to a kid after all, and maybe it’s because of the innocence and culture in which those memories are located, but I still miss it.