In memory of my car lighter and porcealin goat

As a kid, there was no such thing as an unusual toy. It was just a toy. This is how I don't think it at all odd that at one time, I had both a car lighter with outer casing and a porcelain goat as toys. I also don't find it odd that they were my prize toys at the same time.

I often carried my favorite toys to school in my pocket, and whipped them out at the first hint of free time. That was a practice that I kept until fourth grade, when Mr. Davis caught me with two G.I. Joes and said I was too old to still be playing with toys. I was ashamed and devastated. I knew I had to give up my toys. The toys that I let my imagination run wild with, and had never made any formal plans of giving up. I played with my toys one last time and then donated them all to homeless children.

Three grades prior in first grade, before the Mr. Davis' toy holocaust, I suffered my first real embarrassment concerning toys. I have already said that I could make a toy out of anything, but I could see that my toys didn't always match up with the conventional toys of my peers. Let's start with the car lighter. I probably came across it in the auto junk yard owned by one of my uncle's friends. It was a prize possession for sure. It had lost all ability to cause a spark, but my imagination found other uses for it. It was my defense against the booger lady. The booger lady was a black girl with pony tails who was given the title for no particular reason, but seemed to embrace it anyway. At recess she would chase us with booger on extended finger, reaching to us like a marathon runner handing the baton. Being touched by the booger finger was a fate too horrible to imagine in the first grade. I would push my car lighter into its casing in the same manner which a smoker would to warm up for a light. By pushing my lighter into the casing, it became a grenade waiting for my release. I would then chuck it at the booger lady, never really aiming and never hitting her. I would then scramble back to where ever it landed and pick it back up. It was often at times a magical button, and sometimes it was just a lighter for my candy cigarettes. It wielded great power in my imagination, and rose high in the ranks of my toy kingdom.

The porcelain goat was probably retrieved from a dumpster. My family had money, at least enough to not dig in dumpsters, but my crazy uncle had a passion for the dumpster diving. I think he was too young for the depression, but it must of had an effect on him. I don't remember ever taking anything to the dump without bringing something back. You might be thinking of a few dumpsters in a row. Sure, we went there most often, but we also hit the big landfills. Now it seems strange and unsanitary to me. It also helps to know that I am completely aware of how nutso my family is, but back then it was a treat. I mean, we are talking hidden treasure. Toys buried. Toys waiting for me. Cars with three wheels (obviously blown off in a high speed car chase), decapitated action figures, rain worn transformers, and, yes, porcelain goats.

Nap time was an everyday event. Even as a kid I would zonk out. I would sleep so deep that it scared me. I was always afraid that I would wake up naked and strapped to the wall with the whole class laughing at me. I don't know where I got the idea that this was a logical threat faced by all first grade deep sleepers, but I had it. I would wake up in a panic, and check my surroundings.

Clothes? Check!

Toys? ….

Toys? …

When I went to sleep my toys were secure, but where were they? I was frantic. Had someone stolen my prize lighter and goat? Who would do such a thing? Who would…my teacher was looking at me. Double check clothes…Check! My toys? My heart stopped. She had my toys!

She thought my lighter was an inappropriate toy for school, and the porcelain goat…What can you say about a porcelain goat? It might not be the toy of choice, but it can't be described as inappropriate. Odd maybe, but not inappropriate. The class laughed at me. I promised not to bring them back to school, if I could just please have them back. It wasn't fair to steal my toys while I was sleeping.

Maybe she felt sorry for the poor kid who has to use a car lighter and a figurine as toys. Maybe she didn't want to upset the odd kid. All I know is I got the toys back at the end of the day, and they came home to stay.

I am not sure when I eventually parted ways with my lighter and goat. They might have went up in the same blaze that burned my house down (not started by my car lighter). I like to think that they found their way back to their respective junk yard and landfill only to be found by some new, strange boy that sees them for the wonderful toys they are.