They wouldn't come in the mail, but they would go to at the shopping mall, our tiny,

itty-bitty shopping mall.

This is Anne in California.

And just like me, she grew up during a time when the Christmas season was populated by the

likes of Atari video game consoles, Teddy Ruxpins, and Rainbow Bright.

Oh, Rainbow Bright, yes, yes, gem in the hologram.

We're talking about not only the wonders of 1980s Christmas toys, but also about another

piece of Christmas nostalgia, one known to generations of kids here in America and in Canada

where Anne grew up. Every year, sometime in the fall, a new

addition would arrive. Maybe it would come in the mail. Maybe you'd pick it up in person.

That's right. Actually, the storm was called the laughing giraffe. Colorful, glossy, enticing,

filled with photographs and delightfully persuasive descriptions.

It was countless children's favorite bit of Christmas reading,

a field guide to the Christmas season, a treasure map,

the fuel for heart's desires and letters to Santa.

It was the department store catalog.

And I would sit at the kitchen table,

and I would flip through the pages and circle everything that was to my heart's delight, like the dreams and hopes and wish everything I wanted to tell

Santa that I wanted. And I went through that book like it was my job. Like it was a home.

Maybe it seems funny to look back with nostalgia at what was just a giant advertisement.

The fact that many of us do is practically a metaphor for the materialism and commercialization

that has come to define the season. But there's more going on here. Yes, in the strictest sense,

...