A couple of weeks ago, my dad texted to tell me the mission I put in front of him was accomplished: The Toys were back.
The Toys were my pride and joy as a little guy – boxes of He-Man, Thundercats, G.I. Joe and assorted other action figures. My folks definitely got their money's worth. I beat the snot out of those things.
Once, I decided that when a G.I. Joe died in battle due to a missile through the stomach, he should have a hole in his stomach. So, I got myself into dad's tool box, found a drill, and proceeded to – you guessed it – put a hole in his stomach.
That served me well enough in that particular battle, but then it hit me – that hole wasn't going away. So unfortunately, that particular G.I. Joe always had to die in a fashion that called for a hole in the stomach.
Those were the days.
After I aged out of The Toys, my parents did the right thing – they saved them. Put 'em in boxes or garbage bags and tossed 'em up in the garage rafters. Who knows when they'd see the light of day again.
That day came recently, when I asked if my dad could find them. He did, and boy was it a wallop from the past when I opened those things. I was a little sad I couldn't remember all the names of the figures, but I knew the faces.
I couldn't wipe the smile off my face for the better part of an hour as I dug through them all.
After throwing away some assorted arms, legs and cracked guns and ships, I packed the rest in a plastic tub and brought them up to Milwaukee. Once home, I put them in the sink for a good scrub - they've been in those rafters for the better part of two decades, after all.
Unfortunately, some didn't make it through the wash cycle.
That led to this discussion with my dad.
Indeed they did.
Now they are en route to a new house where they can be enjoyed by all my nieces and nephews who, for the next few years, will come to love and appreciate all of these toys as I once did.
My 4-year-old nephew already loves He-Man (yes, I own all the…Read more...