Toy Story

Written 4-11-08

I have found the most magical place in all of London.

I stumbled upon it while walking down Regent Street, a quite busy, posh street in Central London. One might wonder why this magical haven of mine is located next to all the pomp and snobbery London has to offer, and yet, there it is. I speak of course of the Hamleys Toy Store, a six level maze of pure joy in shiny packaging. I ventured in slowly, afraid that a man in an Official Uniform would stop me, look down condescendingly and say I was too old to be there. After a few seconds of holding my breath, I realized that there were no flashing red lights or intruder alarms and that I was in a safe place.

Remember when you were a kid and your Mom told you everything was going to be ok? In your heart you knew that to be true, simply because she had said so and you trusted her with the blind love and innosence of childhood. These days, with all of our "grown-up" education and knowledge, our realities and skepticisms, we find ourselves constantly looking over our shoulder. So when, in the huge city of London I find myself feeling that warm security of my childhood while standing in a toy store, a smile lights up my face and I feel the sudden urge to call my Mother.

A few days later, on my day off, I took my friend Shaun to see the toy store. I needed someone to share the memory with, someone to play with who would understand how alive I felt. We dragged each other around all 6 floors, me squealing wildly at the princess dresses on the third floor, he telling me about the model planes he used to build as a kid while wearing a Storm Trooper helmet on his head. I sat on the floor and played with a train set next to a three year old. We put on Hulk hands and had a boxing match. I could go on and on about the mischief we had but what I really want to get across is the sheer beauty and simplicity of the experience. Of playing in a toy store with no reguards to maturity or caring what people thought. Of letting loose my inner child and letting her soar.

After three hours of excitement and joy, we made a small purchase of a Firetruck Lego set and walked over to a pub to put it together. It was busy, so we sat on the floor near the fireplace and dug in. Yes, there were some who did not understand my incessant giggling or Shauns intense concentration on the wheels, but a lot of people walked over to talk to us about our Lego set, offer advice, or help us out. The person who sticks out most vividly in my mind was an elderly man sitting close to us, watching our progress. After a while he came and knelt down beside us to talk. He showed me a picture on his phone of a movie star's face, completely made our of Legos. He has taken his granddaughter to see it, and in talking about it, his eyes were lit up. He grinned a sly, mischevious grin, and in it I could see the youth he had held onto all his life.

The youth of the world are changing. A twelve year old ordered a latte in front of me yesterday in a coffee shop. I wanted to give him a hug and then take him to the zoo but instead I sat and thought about how fast kids these days want to grow up. How my young, beautiful cousins all wear make-up and want to be like Hannah Montana, who is in my opinion the spawn of evil. And how many thirteen year old girls wanted to buy the Playboy Bunny costume for Halloween? All of this frightens me, especially when I sat for three hours and made a samurai sword for Halloween out of a cardboard box, a roll of duct tape and some glitter.

The wisdom I have learned and want to impart is this:

1: If you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

2. Hold on to your youth for as long as humanly possible. Because once it's gone its hard to get back. We all need a little silliness to warm up this "Real World" we live in. So I ask you to ask yourself...

When was the last time you flew a kite?