Now, just what constitutes a toy is tricky. The Encarta on-line dictionary's first definition for toy is "something meant to be played with, especially by children". This is only the fourth definition listed for the noun toy in my trusty Webster's New Twentieth Century Unabridged Dictionary, but it's still the one that works for me, with a minor modification. I would say that a toy is "something meant to be played with, especially by people who like to feel like children". So let's go with that.
As you have no doubt gleaned from earlier posts, I place a high value on entertaining myself. I have been afflicted with this character flaw as long as I can remember. But after a few years of minimally acceptable attempts to correct the situation, I humbly but gracefully accepted my fate (I think I was twelve at the time). I have since concentrated my energies on turning this curse into a positive, trying to perfect my methods and to infect as many people as possible. What I've learned is that self-entertainment is largely about toys. Toys can take you back to simpler times, tuck your adult self out of sight for awhile, and lead you into a child-like state of pure and unencumbered enjoyment. If you use them correctly, toys can make time and the rest of the world sort of melt away.
I have many fond memories of favorite toys through my childhood. As life was more reserved in the 50s, and children less doted upon, new toys were generally reserved for birthdays and Christmas. So most of my memories of new toys involve dropping hints to my parents, waiting with over-the-top kid anxiety for those magic days to arrive, then exploding with joy upon receipt of the new toys. I'm getting a little flushed just thinking about all this.
The toy I always think of first whenever I dig into these memories is an airplane I received for my birthday when I was around seven or eight (can't remember exactly, and this was a bit before my day planner habits so I have no written record). I'm not sure why this airplane is so deeply etched in my memory, but it is. It wasn't something that I had asked for, that I recall. And it wasn't wrapped. It was tucked under a blanket on my bed. My mother led me to my bedroom when I returned from school that day and had me pull back the blanket. I was blown away. I remember that the airplane was huge, by kid standards anyway (it seemed to me to be at least a yard long, but since at the time I was only a little more than a yard long, it was likely only a foot or so). It had the look of a commercial airliner. It was metal, shiny, had four propellers that actually spun and landing gear so you could push it along the floor for a proper take off. It was awesome.
I had several other favorite toys as a kid. There was the AM radio (the size of a car battery) on which I first listened to the Tigers and to Michigan football (yes, this green-blooded Spartan started out as a Maize and Blue fan; it was a Bay City thing). There was my first trike, and my first two-wheeler, a chemistry set, an erector set, a miniature Chevy station wagon with spring-loaded wheels, two big steel Tonka trucks (rulers of the sand box), and my first record player (wheeled out of my parents' bedroom as the final gift to my siblings and me one Christmas). I not only remember each of these items vividly, I can still feel what it was like to get them. Such is the magic of favorite toys.
As I reflect on my childhood, I have to admit that I have no idea what happened to any of my toys. I'm guessing that as I grew older and lost interest in old things, they were given away or trashed. Somewhere along the line, perhaps when I had children of my own, my fascination with old things asserted itself. Another example of my pattern of blooming late.
Nancy, on the other hand, still has many of her favorite childhood toys, some of which are proudly displayed in The Museum - the top shelf of our basement play area, reserved exclusively for special toys from the past. Among these are a toy cash register, an actual jack-in-the-box, a toy iron, and Nancy's first ever record player, dubbed by her father Rae as her "lo-fi". It sits proudly in The Museum next to our kids' first "lo-fi" and their first portable tape player, all thought to be fairly hi-tech in their day.
Our long-term storage area contains a few other gems from my Bride's past. There is Patty Play-Pal, a doll that is about as big as Nancy was when she received it. Patty lies wrapped in a blanket on a shelf under the gas meter, fully dressed, patiently waiting for her next play date. She looks so real that every time I come across her while fussing in the storage area I worry that Patty's going to complain about her accommodations or offer me tea or something. Creepy. Also in long-term storage is Nancy's miniature steel washing machine (that actually works by way of a hand crank), a miniature floor sweeper and a toy ironing board (perhaps there is something to the gender bias argument regarding children's toys).
But most precious among all the heirlooms lurking in the time capsule that is my furnace room is Nancy's Buick, her pride and joy. The Buick is a steel pedal car in which my Bride cruised her neighborhood in her early years, never straying off her block of course, but keeping tabs on all important kid goings-on. Below is a picture of our daughter Cathy trying out the Buick in our driveway some years ago, carrying on the tradition. My guess is that in the not too distant future, grandchildren Leili and Cyrus may take their turns in this rarest of conveyances.
But back to my late blooming. While I have virtually no toys from my childhood, I have almost every toy I have ever owned as an adult. This is partly due to the fact that I'm fairly adept at managing storage space, and partly due to my belief that the longer you keep something and use it, the wiser your initial investment was. But mostly, my habit of keeping toys is fueled by the fact that I just like them. I like keeping them in good shape, using them, and remembering the good times I have had with them. Even when one of these old toys finally gives up the ghost, it has a reasonable chance of finding a spot in The Museum and spending its twilight years as decor.
My oldest toys still in use are sports equipment. I still have baseball gloves, balls and bats from the 70s. My bowling ball doesn't get a lot of use these days, but it has about 30 years of experience. I have tennis rackets from the 80s, all of which remain in good shape. I have one wooden racket from the 40s that was my father's. I had it restrung in the 70s and still keep it in its original press. It works just fine but is of the old design, prior to the over-sized rackets of recent years, so it gets very little play.
The Burk family also has a decent collection of board games and jigsaw puzzles, many of which are 25-30 years old. At the cottage we have several older games and puzzles, 30-40 years old and more, that were previously in service at the former family cottage in Ontario. One game in particular, The Game of Life, has seen fairly steady use across the years.
Being a lover of music and movies, many of my favorite toys in adulthood have been electronic. I will admit that the equipment I procured and used in my late teens and twenties has for the most part past out of existence. You can't really get replacement tubes anymore, and that clacking in the middle of 8-track playback is something nobody misses. But still in use are a number of items dating from the 80s and early 90s. This includes receivers, cassette decks, turntables, VCRs and that fascinating but ill-fated piece of magic called a laser disk player (I still have three). You can't help but smile when you slide what looks like a silver 12" CD out of it's sleeve and, with two hands, slip it into a player tray the size of a serving platter. Now that's what I'm talking about. And thanks to the Internet and the endless evolution of technology, older media formats are cheap and still available.
Complementing the old electronic toys are a reasonable number of newer devices, just to keep my hand in. Both the house in GPW and Wiser Times have hi-def TVs, Blu-Ray players and digital music capability. And NetFlix has been known to make periodic appearances. We've also installed two IP cams at Wiser Times, one in the front (lakeside) to monitor the beach and another in the rear (roadside) to monitor snow in the drive. It's kind of fun to access the cameras from home or Florida and see how things are doing. I've also been playing with a digital turntable, slowly adding my vinyl collection to my iTunes library.
But not all my time is spent watching movies and listening to music. I count my modest library of books among my toys (though my reading time doesn't quite measure up to several of my friends who qualify as serious readers), and I have a number of other favorite toys with which I commune on a regular basis. I have a pretty nifty scanner with which I am digitizing the extensive library of family photos and slides. I have a 6' pool table that I use on just about a daily basis. I try not to walk by it without shooting a rack or two. I have a couple of electronic chess boards that I love to use, and even occasionally beat. And with retirement, Nancy and I bought ourselves new bikes (retro styling, of course) and have renewed our interest in golf, both playing and watching. This summer we played more rounds and followed more pro tournaments than we ever have, and enjoyed both activities immensely. We even have a flag stick for chipping and a small but challenging putting green installed in our back yard.
Another favorite toy that has been gathering dust most of its life, and upon reflection is definitely my second-oldest possession after my Teddy bear (I received it when I was seven) is my Scandalli - a 120 base, imported-directly-from-Italy, piano accordion. Here's a picture of me toting this baby around in my accordion marching band uniform (a story for another time).
Yes, it's really a musical instrument, but still clearly falls under my self-serving definition of a toy. I took accordion lessons for 12 years as a kid but, sadly, have freed my poor Scandalli from it's velour-lined case only sparingly over the last 50 years. I did with the best of intentions reacquaint myself with its charm and versatility shortly after I retired, planning to make playing music part of my new weekly routine. I was struck by how good the accordion still sounds even after all these years (being a reed instrument, it never goes out of tune). However, after that brief encounter last year other interests overwhelmed my desire to return to the lofty status of musician, and I made little progress. Ever the optimist, I hope to do better in the new year. Wish me luck.
One other category of toy bears mention in this discussion. That would be the basket of chew toys and plastic bones that reside under the silver cabinet in our family room. Our dog Kody inventories, plays with and distributes these treasures around the family room constantly (well, constantly between naps). He likes them all, but his favorite is a big, red, gnarly, soft-sided football that he presents for games of fetch each evening during what otherwise would be happy hour. Here's a shot of the Kode-Man in action.
It's great fun to watch a 45 pound dog go slipping and sliding across a linoleum floor trying to get his mouth around a tumbling oblate spheroid. Kody's toys also serve as sort of a data capture system for tracking unauthorized pet movement, as they often mysteriously show up in other rooms of the house generally off-limits to canines. Catching him in the act is the trick.
Well, there is much more that could be said about the joyous world of toys and their welcome influence on behavior, but I need to work on my own Christmas wish list, due out to the rest of the family by Monday. Any suggestions?
I'd be most interested in your stories of favorite toys, and sincerely hope that everyone receives at least one cool toy this holiday season.
Until next time - Grosse Pointe Charles
