Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

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Brian
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Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby Brian » Tue Apr 21, 2009 8:08 am


Brian
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Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby Brian » Tue Apr 21, 2009 8:08 am

What was your favorite toy as a child? Write a fond memory describing a time when you played with that toy.

Please limit your response to 500 words or fewer.

naterdog
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RE: Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby naterdog » Tue Apr 21, 2009 3:57 pm

Some toys you should never give to a child. Those very toys inevitably become the favorite. Sometimes it’s to the detriment of the child.

As a child my favorite toy was a time machine. My beloved Uncle Sigmund gave it to me. Although I’m not sure he liked me very much.

I never saw him again after that day.

The toy was the shape of a large egg with a seat inside of it. When I sat in the seat looking out at the world and pulled on the lever next to me. The world, that was my living room, and uncle Sigmund with his stogie hanging from humored lips slowly faded from view.

I heard the wonderful sound of laughter and the kinds of wiz and whirl that children love. Then I laughed.

Lights of every color flew past my head. The temperature rose and dropped. I laughed again.

What a great experience unsurpassed by any other toy I’ve ever owned.

It was all fun and games until I ended up in a rocky crag. The sound of large creatures loomed in the distance. Screeches and thumps: The sounds children hate. I cried.

I smelled the reek of rotten fish. I felt the slobber of an herbivore who was liking my head. First, I laughed.

Once I looked up and saw his beady eyes, I cried.

The lever. I knew instinctually I needed to pull the handle.

When I did the sound, sights and smells all faded, exchanged for cold glowing lights. There were odd unknown sounds. I didn’t know what to think. The smell was that of rubber play mats and burnt popcorn.

When the lights stopped swirling and my vision cleared, I saw things I’d never seen before. There was a giant robot with people standing in his eyes.

I yelled “Hi!” When yellow lights came straight towards me and the world started warming up, I cried.

The lever. I pulled it hard and fast.

The lights faded. The heat subsided. I laughed and I cried.

New sights. New sounds. The warmth was also nice. I heard “Oohs and Aahs” the kinds of sounds that make a child want to show off.

When the world came back into view, I was glad to see my living room. I was glad to see the couch where my uncle Sigmund sat.

Where was uncle Sigmund? I heard my mom’s voice in the other room. “Is that you honey?” I jumped from my time machine and ran to my mom. “Mom you look old. Where’s uncle Sigmund?”

She only pointed to a picture on the wall.

There he was exactly the way I remembered him; Stogie hanging from his humored lips.

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RE: Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby patticake » Tue Apr 21, 2009 7:01 pm

My favorite toy was one I had to share with my little sister. It came to us as a great sacrifice
from my parents who had three older children and money was in short supply. My dad sharecropped in a small southeast Missouri town. Growing up there were few store bought toys and those only at Christmas.

This year Dad had a good crop so Christmas morning my sister and I awoke to find a beautiful tin doll house in the living room. It had an open front and tiny molded pink furniture that we could move around inside the house. The blue siding on the outside with white shutters on the windows was the prettiest house we had ever seen. The home we lived in as well as our neighbors were unpainted houses without electricity or plumbing.

My sister and I spent hours on the floor on our stomachs playing with the little house. The living room furniture consisted of a couch and chair with stairs that went up to a second floor for the bedrooms. Small bedroom furniture and a unfamiliar bathroom that we did not know existed as we always used a outhouse.

Summertime we moved the house outside and sometimes disagreed as to where the furniture should be placed. We used matchsticks for people and stood them at the kitchen table pretending to have a family dinner.

Time finally rusted the exterior and the pink furniture was lost but the memories of the special time we shared playing and dreaming will last a lifetime.

naterdog
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reply to previous story

Postby naterdog » Wed Apr 22, 2009 6:47 am

The timeliness of your story is beautiful. We live in a day of unknown riches yet so many are wallowing in fear of a supposed recession. The news today stated that Freddie Mac’s former CFO may have hung himself within his $900,000 home. Could the pressure of his job have made life itself so pointless and worthless? If so, it’s only because we’ve come so far from the days when children and adult would share. They would share their toys. They would share their crops and the profits. And when times were harder then usual they would share the burden.

You took your reader to those moments of your growing up. I liked those days of being “poor (?)” better then today’s “riches (?)”!

Keep sharing you rich craft of writing. It’s very encouraging.

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RE: Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby Bellas_Mummy » Thu Apr 23, 2009 2:06 am

"Giddyup Darky," I yelled in frustration at the black shetland pony chomping happily on the lush green grass behind the hayshed. I sat in the saddle, clomping him in the well-padded ribs with all the strength of my 9-year-old heels, but with no success. He just kept munching.

I sighed, climbed off, and, tugging at his reins as hard as I could to make him move, I hauled him back to the tack room. I unsaddled the pony whilst he stood placidly chomping on the mouthful of grass he had grabbed, and then I slid his bridle over his ears, allowing him to drop the bit. I dipped the bridle in his drinking water to clean it, as I had been taught, and hung it back on its hook.

Darky, now unrestrained, returned to chomping the lush green grass behind the hayshed. I ran back to him, jumping on him from one side, and sliding off him the other. Suddenly I was an Indian, the greatest female warrior ever seen, riding bareback to catch buffalo or to attack cowboys with bow and arrows.

Then I jumped on the pony's back from behind him (he didn't even flinch) and slid down his neck. Suddenly I was in a circus, performing death-defying acts to deafening applause.

The pony lifted his head, stared at me, heaved a sigh, and resumed chomping on the lush green grass behind the hayshed.

I had years of fun and frustration with my bomb-proof, lazy, placid best friend, Darky the Shetland pony. He was quite happy with my imaginings, as long as he could chomp on the lush green grass behind the hayshed.

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RE: Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby loumath » Sun Apr 26, 2009 5:46 am

My favorite toy was Tiny Tears, a baby doll who could eat, cry tears and wet her diaper. She was easy to cuddle, dress, feed. One day I decided she wasn't get enough to eat with just water in the doll bottle I fed her from, so I mashed up a soda cracker with water and fed her that. It constipated her badly. I could not get the crackers to come out and so she had to be thrown away. I did get a new one and never fed her crackers, after learning a valuable lesson about feeding dolls.

In many ways, I think she was a toy for me to act out and solve the problem of not getting enough nurturing at home. I could give what I didn't get and it became a way of life for me. Tiny Tears was a great friend to me, letting me feed her, clothe her, change her diapers. She had her own sleeping space, a crib that I kept in a corner of our one-car garage outside. Every day I would go out to hold her and feed her after school. She is one of my best memories of childhood, getting to come home from school and take care of my imaginary baby.

loumath
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RE: Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby loumath » Sun Apr 26, 2009 5:46 am

My favorite toy was Tiny Tears, a baby doll who could eat, cry tears and wet her diaper. She was easy to cuddle, dress, feed. One day I decided she wasn't get enough to eat with just water in the doll bottle I fed her from, so I mashed up a soda cracker with water and fed her that. It constipated her badly. I could not get the crackers to come out and so she had to be thrown away. I did get a new one and never fed her crackers, after learning a valuable lesson about feeding dolls.

In many ways, I think she was a toy for me to act out and solve the problem of not getting enough nurturing at home. I could give what I didn't get and it became a way of life for me. Tiny Tears was a great friend to me, letting me feed her, clothe her, change her diapers. She had her own sleeping space, a crib that I kept in a corner of our one-car garage outside. Every day I would go out to hold her and feed her after school. She is one of my best memories of childhood, getting to come home from school and take care of my imaginary baby.

Reverend Never
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RE: Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby Reverend Never » Mon Apr 27, 2009 6:59 am

Sometimes, there is a complex simplicity to a toy that only a child can see. Take the humble block. Growing up, blocks were the only toy I had, and the only toy I ever needed.

My days were filled with castles of solid wood with blocks standing on one end to show that that particular piece was a king, or maybe a knight, anything my little mind wished it to be. Two blocks that were exactly the same to the eye of an adult were actually a dragon and a wizard, though both were the same size and color. Yes, blocks were gateway to every fantasy world locked away in my mind, a rich world of life and sometimes death, but always was there a good time to be had!

One day, something amazing happened: I discovered other people worked in these worlds, made money, have lives. Except, they took it one step further. They created their worlds from nothing, a literal God. My discovery was books, and this made my playings even greater!

Places I never dreamed of, I could now visit and spend my time there, changing the world to how I saw fit. My first new world was one most children might not be recommended to see, but I was there. My first reading, my first unknown world, was one of Steven King. Werewolves were on my mind.

In my Steven King world, the werewolf never lost. Yes, he got shot, like in the book, but he didn't die. He came back years later, and started hunting in my block town.

This is were I learn a skill that I sadly forgot: I let the character do as he pleased. I let all of them do so. It was a bloodbath. Never mind the fact I was only a kid. It makes no difference. It was fun, and I came to realize something.

Living and working in a fantasy world sounded like fun.

It would be years later before I learned how hard it would be, but back then, who cared? No one corrects a kid, tells him he's not going to have money, or starve, or that he'll have to work for a living before becoming a writer, or that he might not be good enough. That talent comes with time. It was about fun, and now that I've grown, it still is. But from the humble block, came my future. In fact, from all our fond memories of past toys, came our future. Ours was a world of imagined lives. We come back, as if returning from a long vacation.

Here's to those wonderful building blocks!

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Re: Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

Postby gigitan » Fri May 01, 2009 8:58 am

One day, my mom found a plastic doll face on the street. It was a very pretty face, as big as my palm. We clean it up. My mom took out some cotton filling and white fabric from her treasure box, with a scissor, a needle and threat, she magically sewed a head and the whole body onto the plastic face. She glued some black yarn over the white head for hair, and cut some bans on the doll's forehead. "I want two pony tails for her." I reminded my mom. I was five years old with two pony tails.
In the next few days, for the very first time, I learned how to knit a sweater and pants for the doll. My mom also showed me how to make pair shoes with fabric. The doll was finally completed. It had big black eyes, black hair with red ribbon, red sweater with different color buttons, and black pants with red stripes. It was beautiful and soft. It was the best doll, and the only doll that I have ever had.

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