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Peace of My Mind

Ebay is a great way to climb back into the past.  And, of course, who wants to climb back more than old people?  Nostalgia is the mother's milk to anyone who gets that annoying AARP junk mail.  And I want to go on record as saying I am not a member of that organization, but I might consider it when I get old.  I'll let you know.





But back to Ebay.  I love it because you can go researching the things that you were attached to when you were a kid.  I got a car dash, a Remco toy, to play with in the back seat of the car when Marj would throw us all in the back and take of to Monmouth, G-Burg or the Quad Cities.  I loved that thing.  Nothing worked on it at all, it was all interactive - you want the windshield wiper to go you had to do it by hand.  All the little knobs didn't do anything except go around.  The steering when moved in circles and there was a kind of push button horn that squeaked more than honked.  I sure loved that toy.  I loved it so much that I wanted the next iteration they came out with - a kind of Cadillac to my little yellow Dodge.   







I got this for Christmas and, boy, was it ever grand.  The wipers actually worked with the batteries you put into the back.  Turn signal lights came on and the horn honked.  The thing even had a key that started it.  Visors, a rear-view mirror, and all manner of buttons and sliding doo-hickeys.  


I should have been ecstatic beyond belief but somehow, it was a bit of a let-down.  So why didn't I like the newer model as much?  I don't know.  Maybe I got older, maybe the thrill of driving was fading.  Maybe the Wombie became more interesting.  Try as I might, I never got over my little yellow dash.  I think it was my first evidence that life holds disappointments.  No matter what we hope for - no matter the dream, we as a species are more likely to wish for more than what we end up with.  You know all the things you wanted, had to have, and then once it is in our possession, it doesn't have the power it once had.  Or the allure.  Or the passion.  Is the hunt always better than the kill?  Is the journey always better than the destination?  I will leave that up to the philosophers or sociologists.  Firsts are special.  Who doesn't remember their first car?  Their first love?  Their first vacation?  It is true that it is the "firsts" that imprint themselves on our hearts and minds.  

To put a somewhat positive spin on it, at the least, it denotes a kind of restlessness on our part.  Never stand still, always look to the future.  Even if the future isn't as bright as the here and now.  I don't know what to make of it all from a toy I had as a kid.  We grow, we evolve, we move on.  Sometimes we leave our toys out in the rain.









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