The other day a catalog came in my mail advertising the offerings of a well-known toy emporium. The high-tech, high-quality, high-priced items had me in shock.

For $19.99 plus tax one might purchase a bubble blower. Fifty years ago, we kids took the wires that came twined around the caps of the milk bottles left by the milkman at our door daily and twisted them into loops with handles. We then begged a jar or a can from our mothers, filled it with soapy water, and voila! The bubbles we blew inspired the popular song, ''I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air...''

The next page of the catalog pictured various kinds of blasters, averaging $20 in price. When we were kids we occasionally played cowboys and Indians, using as a ''blaster'' a cocked finger: ''Bang; you're dead!'' upon which the enemy collapsed on the floor to bleed awhile and rise and fight again. The cost of the finger, and of the ''Bang!'' were -- nothing.

A basketball stand, complete with hoop, was the next item advertised, at $34.99. My father met the problem by attaching an old barrel hoop to our garage door. For a special occasion we were given a real basketball; otherwise we used old cushions for balls. They slam-dunked just fine.

Also in the catalog were skates, ranging in price from $30 to $44.99. They were attached to shoes, which could not be worn without the wheels. Our skates years ago cost $1.99, and with a skate key, price ten cents, were attached to our own shoes. When the skates wore out we joined the wheels to a piece of wood to make what is now called a skate board (which we knew as a scooter), selling for a considerable sum.

In the empty lots near our homes, we kids used to build clubhouses out of lumber lying around for the taking. The catalog lists several playhouses, the least expensive of which costs $129.99, and the top model, $274.99. The fun of the clubhouse was that we built it ourselves; what's the joy of walking into and out of a prefab?

An elaborate swing set, $199.99, was offered in place of the old rubber tire attached by ropes to a tree branch. The dolls, running about $30 in price, could be dressed in ready-made outfits, none of them inexpensive, instead of the scraps of cloth we used to fashion into skirts and blouses and cloaks and clothing of indescribable nature and loveliness. And the games! Whatever happened to ''Candyland?''

What ever happened, too, to jump-ropes and jacks (not the kind you buy in an auto supply store) and rubber balls (including the revered ''Spaldeens''), selling for a dime, and horse-reins, with which we whiled away so many hours weaving long tails of wool scraps, some day to be shaped into attractive mats?

But when in Rome....So when my granddaughter came to visit I took her to the toy department store devoted solely to childish amusements (years ago it would have been part of a 5 and 10 cent store) and asked her to choose a gift from her grandmother. After being apprised that the ''Furbies'' were all sold out, she wandered up and down the many aisles, saying, ''I have two of those, and three of those, and five of those, and I think I have a few of those....'' No wonder the latest offering, however unattractive it may seem to me, sells out at $30!

So I gave her a piece of chalk and a stone, and taught her how to play potsy. She loved it.