I was searching for an old computer cord in my trunk the other day and got smacked up the head by a flash from my past.
When I was first starting piano lessons my piano teacher used to hold “Bingo Day”. It was an afternoon (usually around Christmas or at the end of the school year) where she’d gather all of her students of every age, to play bingo.
She’d serve home made brown sugar suckers (I always opted for the maple leaf shaped ones…somehow I though they were bigger than the others) and Tang.
At the end of Bingo Day we’d be led, one by one, into her back room where we could choose from a plethora of prizes. My piano teacher was a little French nun whose only income was the money she received from giving piano lessons to children. I expect she had no extra money so I’m not sure where she found them, most of them were cheap little trinkets, but in our eyes
they were the most impressive of treasures.
One year I spied a little plastic cat, not more than two centimeters high. I thought he was the
on the planet.
I saw him immediately,
nestled between the collection of deflated balloons and the heart shaped sunglasses.
I packed this little cat around with me for months, pulling him out of my pocket when no one was looking and
tickling his plastic little chin.
When I got older, and much too mature to pack around a plastic toy, I’d place him on top of my clock radio where I was sure to see him every night before I fell asleep
and every morning when I woke up.
In high school I retired him to my jewelry box where he stood guard over my costume jewelry and eventually my class ring.
By the time I reached university he lived in the steamer trunk my mother bought for me for my move to the big city.
It’s been years since I’ve seen this little guy. A lifetime really. He looks a little rough for wear and the white paint has worn off his chin considerably, but he is still as cute as ever.
It’s fun to find a little portals that transports us back to our childhoods.
I think I’ll keep him out of my trunk for a little while just to remind myself how little it took
to make me happy.
I’ll just be sure not to rest him beside the new diamond earrings I purchased this weekend because that would mean I’d have to acknowledge the frivolous nature I’ve acquired over the decades.