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Despite innumerable visits to Chicago, we never got to the top of the 1,450-foot Sears Tower.

Four years ago, we got as far as the lobby, but the wait for the elevator trips was too long.

So we settled for the John Hancock tower instead.

Oh, we definitely plan to go back to Chicago. Many more times, in fact.

But there will be no Sears Tower.

Now it’s called the Willis.

Or by its slightly off-color nickname, Big Willie.

A British outfit has taken it over.

These days, few things last forever, especially names of stuff, which tend to shift with mergers, takeovers and sponsorship deals.

Or whims.

John Cougar becomes John Cougar Mellencamp ... becomes John Mellencamp.

Prince becomes an unpronounceable symbol, then Prince again.

Puff Daddy becomes P Diddy ... becomes whatever he calls himself today.

Pro football’s Chad Johnson has legally changed his name to Chad “Ochocinco” (as in his number, 85).

But some new names fail to stick with many of us because we simply don’t accept them.

That’s why a colleague around the officer will forever call the local PGA golf affair the GGO.

Or why the most recognizable landmark on the Greensboro skyline remains the JP Building, no matter what they say it is.

Or why the newspaper I work for will be the Daily News, always and forever.