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I can remember a time when there was absolutely nothing much better than a good ole heavy duty big cardboard box......
I can remember a time when there was absolutely nothing much better than a good ole heavy duty big cardboard box......
I got a rock...
We had three sticks and a rock, and we had to share the rock.
My Grandfather's baseball glove. I actually still have it right here on my desk. It's a 1962, Roger Maris, Spalding MVP 42-397.
I remember that after my cheap second hand glove ripped out, my Grandmother gave me his. I remember that it was the only thing from home I took with me when I left for the service after basic training.
My best play toys were my cats. My first black cat was named Blackie. My mother had gotten him as a stray and he was already older when I was born. He slept with me every night, watched TV with me, and let me dress him up in doll clothes. I would then place him in a baby carriage, and race around the house as fast as I could go. He'd just lie there and purr, he absolutely loved the attention. He died when I was 8, and was followed by another black cat, Poochie, whom was also "stroller trained" and dressed up. I loved them, and I still have a special spot in my heart for black cats.
If I had to pick two inanimate objects, they were the Little Golden Book "Charlie the Cat" and my LittleTykes kitchen. I asked for Charlie the Cat to be read to me every night for 4 years . Charlie was a stray alley cat that wanted to find a place with long grass to play tiger in the grass. He finds a park and some children adopt him. The kitchen was wonderful, it even had a rotary dial phone.
My mother saved all my toys and clothes in a trunk and a metal wardrobe. That makes me very, very lucky.
I can remember a time when there was absolutely nothing much better than a good ole heavy duty big cardboard box......
A refrigerator box was a valued rarity. We'd crwal in and tilt ot upright until the bottom fell out and then played tank in it until we destroyed it which usually took most of an afternoon.
It brings to mind a cartoon I once saw in Mad Magazine or somewhere that shows a father buying his kid a fancy expensive toy that comes in a big box and the kid is more interested in playing in the box.
We had three sticks and a rock, and we had to share the rock.
Don't tell me. You were so poor your mom had to cut a hole in your pocket so you'd have something to play with
ba boom tish
Some kids are not that sensible.After a few failed attempts to get more than 20 feet riding our bikes we decided the more sensible contest was how far you could *run* on the rail.
Riveting ...simply riveting......there were huge piles of sand for the cement and my brother and I would have a blast playing in them with his Tonka trucks....