Favorite Toy 4/21-4/27

[Katrina Rychling]

When I was a child I used to love playing those claw machines; the ones where a metal ‘claw’ swoops down and tries to grab the prize or your choice. One time I remember being at the Holyoke Mall and there were a bunch of bears in one of the machines. I played and won. It was easy. Easier than some, which never seemed to grab any.

I had been playing long enough to know which machines to not bother with and which ones have potential to win something. That is win something without spending a fortune.

I must have spent $30 in that machine and walked away with 30 or more bears. I have no idea why I needed so many bears, I just liked the thrill of winning them.

[stargazerlilly12]

Zazu was my favorite toy when I was little. He was just a stuffed ostrich I named after the little blue toucan in The Lion King, a movie I watched, on average, 4 times a day. Most small children tote stuffed bears, puppies, or kittens, but hey, I've never been in the same category as most small children. Seriously, I carried an ostrich around wherever I went. The story I will now tell you is that of Zazu and I's most perilous adventure.

I always loved my Uncle Bob's Christmas parties. My father would park the car outside his trailer and I would be on the doorstep before Dad pulled his key from the ignition. That year, I went to the party with my tiny fist wrapped tightly around Zazu's wing. Right away, I was approached by my Christmas party playmates, my dad and uncle's friend's sons, David and Andy. "What's that ugly thing?" David teased. I pouted and growled angrily in response, "Zazu. He's my pet." "Why innnywon haf pet lye dat?" giggled Andy, who was younger than me and not exactly fluent in English yet. My uncle saw me being tormented and said, "Hey kids, I found a box of my old toys in the closet over there. Go check it out."

The three of us went to the closet, and sure enough, there was a battered box of sixties era toys, mosty cars and trucks. To most people, the boxful of stuff was junk. To us, it was a box of treasure. David, Andy, and I pounced on the box and began digging through the wonderful toys. I heard a voice behind me. "Hey, look at these, Andy!" I turned and saw David holding a pair of water pistols in his hands. "Dey guns" Andy grunted. "I know. Let's use them to get Megan's ugly pet!" I didn't like guns one bit, so I clutched Zazu to my chest and ran for my life.

"Bang Bang! Bang Bang!" the boys yelled in unison as they chased me with their guns. I was crying by then. They were trying to hurt my best friend! Suddenly, I was caught in my daddy's arms, far away from the gunfire. I spent the rest of the night there.

I still have Zazu. In fact, he is sitting atop the printer as I write this. He is very battered from our many journeys, though I think the wear and tear quite suits him. I will keep him always, so I can forever remember my childhood days.

[stargazerlilly12]

Zazu was my favorite toy when I was little. He was just a stuffed ostrich I named after the little blue toucan in The Lion King, a movie I watched, on average, 4 times a day. Most small children tote stuffed bears, puppies, or kittens, but hey, I've never been in the same category as most small children. Seriously, I carried an ostrich around wherever I went. The story I will now tell you is that of Zazu and I's most perilous adventure.

I always loved my Uncle Bob's Christmas parties. My father would park the car outside his trailer and I would be on the doorstep before Dad pulled his key from the ignition. That year, I went to the party with my tiny fist wrapped tightly around Zazu's wing. Right away, I was approached by my Christmas party playmates, my dad and uncle's friend's sons, David and Andy. "What's that ugly thing?" David teased. I pouted and growled angrily in response, "Zazu. He's my pet." "Why innnywon haf pet lye dat?" giggled Andy, who was younger than me and not exactly fluent in English yet. My uncle saw me being tormented and said, "Hey kids, I found a box of my old toys in the closet over there. Go check it out."

The three of us went to the closet, and sure enough, there was a battered box of sixties era toys, mosty cars and trucks. To most people, the boxful of stuff was junk. To us, it was a box of treasure. David, Andy, and I pounced on the box and began digging through the wonderful toys. I heard a voice behind me. "Hey, look at these, Andy!" I turned and saw David holding a pair of water pistols in his hands. "Dey guns" Andy grunted. "I know. Let's use them to get Megan's ugly pet!" I didn't like guns one bit, so I clutched Zazu to my chest and ran for my life.

"Bang Bang! Bang Bang!" the boys yelled in unison as they chased me with their guns. I was crying by then. They were trying to hurt my best friend! Suddenly, I was caught in my daddy's arms, far away from the gunfire. I spent the rest of the night there.

I still have Zazu. In fact, he is sitting atop the printer as I write this. He is very battered from our many journeys, though I think the wear and tear quite suits him. I will keep him always, so I can forever remember my childhood days.

[codeman320]

My favorite toy as a child was the woody doll from toy story. I liked to pretend he was flying and toss him around and such, i also had a buzz lightyear action doll but i liked my woody doll better.

When we moved, i didn't have my woody doll, it was lost but later i got another one but this one had a guitar and it sung, i didn't like it. I did the best i could to tear the guitar off woody and i eventually succeeded and it somewhat felt the same, but not all the way.

[Granny007]

My favorite toy was a game called "Feely Meely". My sisters and I would play for hours. The box was 12"x12" and about 8" deep. On each side a circle was cut out, within the circle was black felt with slits cut in it so you could slide your hand into the circle without seeing inside the box. Two to four players played at a time.

Within the box were about 24 small objects, each with a matching card, and a one minute sand timer. The cards were shuffled, the top card turned over, then everyone would slide their hand in searching for the object, it was not as easy as it sounds. We had a ball. I keep telling myself I am going to make one for my grandchildren.

Then there is my close second favorite, I played this one as an adult, it was called "Horsefeathers". Everyone picked one of four puzzles of a horse, they were upside down, you did not allow anyone else to see which puzzle you picked.

The puzzle was folded in threes so it would stand freely. Each person would pick a certain number of puzzle pieces from a black felt bag. You would take turns passing a piece of puzzle to the person next to you, then they would pass one to the next person etc...

At anytime during the game anyone could holler "Horsefeathers" and everyone would throw a piece to the person in the opposite direction that the pieces were being passed. You can only imagine how many of us threw them in the right direction. We would be laughing so hard tears would roll down our cheeks.

[Trissa]

My favorite toys were fairly simple. Chalk, boxes, and sheets. With these, you could build an entire house within a house...or driveway (in the case of the chalk).

I remember a summer when I was very young and we got our hands on three large appliance boxes. Once dad cut windows into the boxes (under our direction) we went to work with crayons drawing carpeting, curtains, and wallpaper. We would set these on the driveway and draw flowers for our "garden" or animals.

The sheets were used on rainy days where we would take over the living room; hanging sheets and blankets from the furniture, making tents. We would throw cushions on the floor and watch TV under the tent or listen to the record player. (Yes...I said record player!)

I passed these simple "toys" on to my children and they have proved to be part of their best memories today. I hope one day to pass them on to grandchildren.

[sns3guppy]

As a child, I loved magic. Much of the world is magic to a child, but the ones that fascinated me were the mysteries that would remain magic well into my adult life. I loved anything that flew, and today I can look back to childhood, past a career of flying, and see the same magic. I never cease to marvel, no matter how many thousands of hours of passed, at the ability to levitate and remain suspended high above the earth in thin, invisible air. Jaded and worn, I have flown on and over nearly every part of the earth, yet I am as awed today as I was at five years old by the sight of a bird, by the sound of an engine, by the hover of a helicopter, or by the unmistakably magic of looking aft in flight and not seeing a giant hand holding me up.

It was this magic that burned in me as I held the box of the first model airplane I ever built. That model transported me to a lifetime so intertwined with aviation that I could scarcely tell where I ended and the cockpit began. It was that model, hard-earned and so precious in an early life of poverty, that lit the fire, fueled the fantasy, and moved me here today. The model is long gone, though I see it as clearly today as I see the computer screen before me.

In youth, I worked hard to fund an ice cream cone, cleaning rabbit pens and chicken coops, and collecting beer cans along the highway to trade for the treasures of life. It was in that trade that the Monogram Snap-Tight F4 Phantom found its way to my kitchen table. I hungrily pieced it together, and painted it in my best tan and green camouflage. Twin exhaust nozzles left blackened soot trails beneath the deeply angled horizontal stabilizers of the tail, carefully brushed with Testors enamel paint. I hand flew that model around my bedroom for hundreds of hours, doing loops and rolls and climbs and dives.

I stared down the length of the model as I dove on toy soldiers, paper mache dinosaurs, imagining the cockpit view. Stacks of blocks and columns of books became karst outcroppings and sky scrapers. Puffs of cotton balls became clouds, and I made night approaches to land on my bed, illuminated with a flashlight. I didn’t dare put a pilot in the cockpit, because it was my place to soar. The tiny space under the clear plastic canopy, the ejection seats meticulously finished with small foil seat belts and shoulder harness, housed a boundless imagination that took me to the far corners of the world, and beyond.

After a lifetime of flying “real” aircraft, big and small, those childhood adventurous flights have yet to be diminished. Though I never left the ground, those bedroom missions remain my greatest flights. Many models came after the Phantom, but none will ever take its place.

[sueme]

My favorite toy was a teddy bear who was bigger than me when I was in kidnergarten. It had no name, but I brought it in for show and tell one day. I still remember the look in there faces, with awe and amazement. Ever since then, I've been collecting teddy bears, but that was by far, my favorite one. My grandpa gave it to me. When he died, it was like a remberance of him. It was very sad.