A chair in a box? What will they think of next?

In the film version of Meredith Wilson's musical "The Music Man," a young Ron Howard leads members of the cast through a lisping version of "The Wells Fargo Wagon."

The speech impaired Winthrop wonders what the "somethin' schpesial" the delivery wagon is carrying, as are many in the small town.

I went out to get the mail this past week and came face to page with a blast from my past: a Fingerhut catalog. During my childhood, growing up in a small town in rural Iowa with limited retail outlets, the way we connected with the outside world was mail order catalogs.

The arrival of a mail order catalog was a big event, whether it be the monthly book of the month club, a record club, JC Penney, Sears, Montgomery Ward or any of the costume jewelry companies where my mother purchased rings.

My late mother was an avid shopper through the mail, purchasing jewelry, books, clothing and even pots and pans and furniture. It may not even raise an eyebrow today, but 35 years ago, purchasing a chair that came in a box that you would assemble yourself was not common place.

I recall my mother purchasing two avocado green (wasn't everything in the early 1970s avocado green?) vinyl pseudo-leather chairs. The chair came in eight pieces: seat, four legs, back and two arms. The legs screwed into place. I remember this clearly, because there were many times when they had to be tightened. The chair wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was usually only pressed into service when we had company and needed the extra seating.

There was a lot of putting on shoes and snowboots done in those chairs, which were lower to the ground than kitchen chairs. They served their purpose for many years.

Fingerhut's appeal to my mother was that she could make small payments on her purchases, an early precursor to credit cards. Raising six children on a tight budget, she needed all the help she could get.

In fact, I can recall when my parents got a credit card. Being children of the depression, they were extremely frugal and paid for everything in cash. When disaster would strike, such as the refrigerator dying, they would find a used refrigerator and arrange payments with the appliance dealer, getting it paid off in just a few months.

When they wanted to travel, they discovered that many places would not accept their check and they did not want to travel with a large amount of cash, so they applied for and were accepted to receive a BankAmericard, Visa's grandfather.

The credit card was kept in the secretary, with all of the important documents like the savings account books and cancelled checks. It was to be used only in case of emergency, and then repaid immediately to avoid paying the high interest rates.

In a generation, credit has gone from something to be used only in emergencies to a way of life. Many use credit on a daily basis, some have ruined their lives with easy credit.

The times have indeed changed.

Isn't it amazing how something as innocuous as a catalog can bring back so many memories?

I glanced through the Fingerhut catalog and they have adapted to the times. Many of the items were electronic, ranging from digital cameras to computers to televisions. They still offer furniture, pots and pans and assorted other items, with easy credit terms.

I can't tell you how many pieces of furniture I have assembled in my life, and it all began helping my mother with those two avocado green chairs from Fingerhut. She wanted to have them assembled before the Chief returned home from work, because the last thing he wanted to do was fix anything after repairing cars all day.

My brother and I got the chairs assembled and I can still see my mother's happy expression.

The joy of the 'somethin' schpesial' brought through the mail is universal.

As always, I welcome your comments. You can reach me by email at tstangl@lemarscomm.net, telephone 712-546-7031, x40 or toll free 1-800-728-0066 x40.

Thanks for reading, I'll keep in touch. Feel free to do the same.