When I was growing up, we had a ranch in the Sierras, between Nevada City and Grass Valley. As a teenager I was tormented with the only clothing options from the local J.C. Penney, or Montgomery Ward. “You’re kidding?” I’d ask my grandfather, “I’m supposed to wear those Wranglers?” Now, of course, I’d love to go to Montgomery Ward and buy cowboy pajamas, but it’s been replaced by a Walmart. One of our favorite possessions is a 1953 Montgomery Ward catalog. It’s filled with remarkably well organized pages and objects I’d like to buy. It’s tempting to send in the order form, but I would need a DeLorean, a flux capacitor, and lots of electricity to get that delivery.