Still in NC, sitting at my father's kitchen table basking in the bleakness that is my solitude, wondering if a move back home to habitate my grandfather's house while he, my father, is out fraternizing with his woman (even though he still supposedly laments his second failed marriage). Gee, I'm sharing much more than I used to here.
Anyways, trying to block away the doubts of love, money and happiness, my mind turns to toys. It makes enough sense really. I'm in my childhood home where the trappings of my youth are stored. Or were. It seems my father forgot the exact moment that ALL my toys went missing in the house no one but he has been in for the last fifteen years. Hmm. My grandfather had a chicken house long in disrepair that had been adopted as the final resting place of refrigerators, books, automobiles and even toys for as long as I can remember. But my toys do not even exist there. They are lost to the ages.
But I had some hid, hehe. In the bottom drawer I found The Real Ghostbusters. I found Ecto-1 and Ecto-1A (the same vehicle with more stickers that they came out with after the sequel in '89). Inside the original I found Egon, Ray, Peter and Winston suited up ready to come, see, and kick ass (unfortunately the newer figures that came out with the newly designed vehicle are still AWOL but this isn't about the loss it's about what remains, so pay attention). There was a claw in the back of the vehicle that could grab a ghost, a winch which was turned on by shifting the exhaust pipe to the side that would pull the ghost into the back and capture it when you rolled the car forward. The winch was connected to the wheels for this purpose. I modified the Proton packs, cut off the "twisting blasts" that shot out the front of them so the pack could fit into the back. Winston drove (as he almost always did in the cartoon) with Egon riding shotgun taking PKE readings. Ray and Peter was in back ready to jump into action.
I remember lying on the floor loading up the ambulance with men and machines. I can't remember the countless ghosts I helped them capture or the days I helped them save. The smell of the vehicle, the discolorations of the plastics used to mold their bodies and weapons, the unexplained melted goop that got on them somehow. It reminds me of my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the remnants of which still litter the house (mind you, the Leonardo I found wasn't mine but my brother's) and the G.I. Joe who lost their battle with Cobra when I took a pellet gun to their heads (the Cobra Terror Dome came to rest in the aforementioned chickenhouse though the Joe Oil Rig was never seen again). I was transported back fifteen/twenty years because, in the words of Dana Carvey, useless pieces of plastic. I remember hopping down to K-Mart and seeing what new Joes or remodeled Masters of the Universe had come out.
I lament the loss of my childhood fancies of adventure. I am saddened that toys are not fun anymore for today's kids; their just collectibles that will never be worth anything, monetarily or for memories. When my parent wold go out of town I had to stay with my grandparents. Up at their house they had a box of toys we, my brother and I, would play with. In it was a box of Lincoln Logs and a spring loaded cannon that shot ping pong balls, both bought at a yard sale for $1.00 and $.50 respectively. They were second hand and only half worked but in a child's mind they were perfect. The Atari 2600 I've unearthed will never play another game but will never let me forget the copy of Asteroids I got for my eigth birthday and that I played on a B/W TV.
I will never look upon my grown up toys with the same reverence. I wish I had my Ghostbusters and Ninja Turtles and G.I. Joes again. Limitless fun for less that $5.00 a piece.
Yeah, I'm a dork.
Anyways, trying to block away the doubts of love, money and happiness, my mind turns to toys. It makes enough sense really. I'm in my childhood home where the trappings of my youth are stored. Or were. It seems my father forgot the exact moment that ALL my toys went missing in the house no one but he has been in for the last fifteen years. Hmm. My grandfather had a chicken house long in disrepair that had been adopted as the final resting place of refrigerators, books, automobiles and even toys for as long as I can remember. But my toys do not even exist there. They are lost to the ages.
But I had some hid, hehe. In the bottom drawer I found The Real Ghostbusters. I found Ecto-1 and Ecto-1A (the same vehicle with more stickers that they came out with after the sequel in '89). Inside the original I found Egon, Ray, Peter and Winston suited up ready to come, see, and kick ass (unfortunately the newer figures that came out with the newly designed vehicle are still AWOL but this isn't about the loss it's about what remains, so pay attention). There was a claw in the back of the vehicle that could grab a ghost, a winch which was turned on by shifting the exhaust pipe to the side that would pull the ghost into the back and capture it when you rolled the car forward. The winch was connected to the wheels for this purpose. I modified the Proton packs, cut off the "twisting blasts" that shot out the front of them so the pack could fit into the back. Winston drove (as he almost always did in the cartoon) with Egon riding shotgun taking PKE readings. Ray and Peter was in back ready to jump into action.
I remember lying on the floor loading up the ambulance with men and machines. I can't remember the countless ghosts I helped them capture or the days I helped them save. The smell of the vehicle, the discolorations of the plastics used to mold their bodies and weapons, the unexplained melted goop that got on them somehow. It reminds me of my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the remnants of which still litter the house (mind you, the Leonardo I found wasn't mine but my brother's) and the G.I. Joe who lost their battle with Cobra when I took a pellet gun to their heads (the Cobra Terror Dome came to rest in the aforementioned chickenhouse though the Joe Oil Rig was never seen again). I was transported back fifteen/twenty years because, in the words of Dana Carvey, useless pieces of plastic. I remember hopping down to K-Mart and seeing what new Joes or remodeled Masters of the Universe had come out.
I lament the loss of my childhood fancies of adventure. I am saddened that toys are not fun anymore for today's kids; their just collectibles that will never be worth anything, monetarily or for memories. When my parent wold go out of town I had to stay with my grandparents. Up at their house they had a box of toys we, my brother and I, would play with. In it was a box of Lincoln Logs and a spring loaded cannon that shot ping pong balls, both bought at a yard sale for $1.00 and $.50 respectively. They were second hand and only half worked but in a child's mind they were perfect. The Atari 2600 I've unearthed will never play another game but will never let me forget the copy of Asteroids I got for my eigth birthday and that I played on a B/W TV.
I will never look upon my grown up toys with the same reverence. I wish I had my Ghostbusters and Ninja Turtles and G.I. Joes again. Limitless fun for less that $5.00 a piece.
Yeah, I'm a dork.