Toy Regret

When I see this photo, of this train by Ideal, I imagine winding the crank, and watching the gears rotate, pushing the train along the kitchen table of my youth. The whistling conductor's hat moves up and down, as he whistles "This Old Man".

I loved Colorforms, Shrinky Dinks, my glow-in-the-dark plastic elephant whose trunk I'd chewed the tip off of. It was one of those things...I chewed and chewed on it, yet when the tip of it popped off, I was alarmed! Surprised! Oh dear...

I miss Fashion Plates... I still want to make a Sno-Cone...

There is a store in Oregon City, near La Famiglia (the best restaurant I've been to in a long time, for the record), that is overflowing with toys of my youth. Their market? I imagine gen-X adults who have toy regret!

I walked Lambie through the store (because there was still 22 minutes on our parking meter), revelling in all of the toys and the precious memories I had of them. I would check the price, and think "Is it worth the price?" and then, "What would I do with it, really?"

What I realized as I walked through the store was that this was another occasion where there is a time and a place for everything. Including toys. Until this moment, I had regretted prematurely donating my favorite toys. I missed them. I wanted MY kids to enjoy them. But they need the toys of now, for them. Which they will donate in their time, and maybe feel toy regret.

When I asked The Captain what his toy regrets were, and I know he has them, he said, "It doesn't really matter because I still would have donated what I did, or it would've broken, and I'd throw it away." He was absolutely right.

My heart leaped as I saw the precious train by Ideal, and I turned the crank. It creaked and groaned and sputtered a whistle of toy that was 30 years old. It no longer was energetically piping "This Old Man", but whining something that could be translated as "Please put me out of my misery. It was a good life." ;)

Unwilling to give up, I Googled the precious train, and every listing I saw said something to the effect of "Seems to whistle something, but can't make out what it is. Moves slowly along a flat surface." My train wasn't like that. Mine had energy. Mine piped proudly. Mine was clean. I like the toy in my memory better. That's the one I will keep. No need to rebuy in attempts to relive. I lived my childhood once, and it was an awesome childhood. Everything that matters more than those fun toys, I still have, and my family and friends aren't leaving me any time soon.