Light-Brite, paper dolls, fashion plates, play-doh, Major Morgan, finger paints, and a wooden doll family that my father made me—these are childhood toys that I remember with fondness. I’m certain there are many that I’m leaving out, some that I’ve forgotten.
On Saturday we went to a toy show. We’re not toy collectors and we were originally going to go with my significant other’s friend who is a collector. He couldn’t make it, so we decided to explore for ourselves. We waited in a long line to enter and once we did, it was fun entering the fairground space. Inside, rows and rows of vendors were selling a variety of toys, vintage and new. There were also comic books and miscellaneous odds and ends—something for everyone. It’s hard to believe we were walking and stopping for about three hours. We became lost in memory; time wound back, stopped, and moved forward. Kids became tired, asleep in their strollers, while parents still looked and searched for toys. It seemed no one left the toy show without a bag in hand.
In my treasure chest of childhood toys, Mr. Potato Head was nowhere to be found. I’m not sure how that happened. Several months back I read a short summary on the history of Mr. Potato Head, and it reminded me that I might like to buy one for the novelty of it and for never having one. When I stopped at one of the vendors, I saw a strange looking Mr. Potato Head. It was a Star Wars version: “Darth Tater.” I couldn’t resist, so Mr. Potato Head came home with me. I also bought a few packs of “Garbage Pail Kids” stickers with gum; a small snoopy in an ice cream truck; and a TV Guide from the 80s. I must say, I don’t think I liked “Garbage Pail Kids” but they remind me of a similar type of oddball sticker and gum combo that I remember before GPK. I don’t remember the name and I’ve never seen them since. It’s as close as I could get. I almost bought a pair of roller skates—Darn, they were too big.
It was a good day filled with sunshine, toys, and memories. It seems everyday is filled with memory. I find great joy in jumping in—catching, finding, collecting—connecting with memories—I am a memory amongst memory and memory catchers.