Saturday, December 23, 2006

Toy Stories, Part III

Every child needs a confessional. Anne Frank had her diary; I had my stuffed animal, Tiger. Until I married at 18, I slept with Tiger. From the time I got him for Christmas when I was 4 or 5, until I was 16, I actively confessed all my problems to him.

You would think that since I turned out to be a writer, that writing would have played a stronger role in confessions. I did create newsletters with my friends for fun and enjoyed writing my school papers. But I never kept a diary, though I tried. For many years I couldn't write about my problems. I didn't think they were important enough to devote written words to them. But at night I would pull tiger under the covers with me and I would whisper everything into his ear. His green, glass eyes would stare out unjudgmentally.

I have kept the childhood toys that meant the most to me. I have always wondered why. Now I think I kept them because they have something important to say to me about my imaginative life. I had very intimate and profound connections to my toys. I think in a sense that relationship has been turned over to the writing process now. But the toys, I still love.


ggw07 said...

Just because an animal is large, it doesn't mean he doesn't want kindness; however big Tigger seems to be, remember that he wants as much kindness as Roo.
- A. A. Milne

What a well loved toy! Always wonderful to see!

ckays1967 said...

so good to be here again and read your words...

Happy NEW year.

dreaminglily said...

Mine was Teddy. A teddy bear in glow in the dark pajamas and bunny slippers with a matching nightcap. He soaked all my tears up from the time I was three until I was fifteen. I have him packed safely away in a box right now and am looking forward to when I have a room big enough I can retrieve my old confidant from his box.

Teddy was my best friend growing up.


Anonymous said...

Tiger is beautiful. A tiger-striped cat was eating catnip in my garden today. Part 2: I am glad you have a good long-lasting marriage. That is the way it is supposed to be. But I want to cry for me, because you remind me of what I long for and it hurts. Teagrapple

Erin said...


I have had a short line of "favorite stuffed animals" in my life. First a big bird, then a stuffed dog, then a dinosaur, then another stuffed dog. They are at my parent's house now, but I would have a very difficult time getting rid of any of them.

How interesting to think of a connection to toys transferring into a connection to writing!

Hope all is well,



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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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