We’re halfway through 2023’s 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks Challenge! This week’s topic is Slow.
When I was a sweet, innocent, four-year-old child, I fell victim to a massive cheap toy scam perpetrated by someone who was supposed to love and protect me. That person was my Uncle Gary. I was looking forward to a fun sleepover at my grandparents’ house, where I knew I’d be spoiled rotten. As a special treat, my mom gave me one whole dollar to spend at the drugstore. Uncle Gary was in his early 20s and living at home so Nana and Grampy asked him to take me down to LaVerdiere's Drug Store to spend my dollar. Looking back on it, I can’t totally blame my uncle, though I did at the time. My grandparents should have known a single guy in his twenties wouldn’t have the required patience to take me toy shopping. They suffered through it themselves and knew it wouldn’t be a quick trip. I was a careful and conscientious shopper!
I was so slow when it came to picking out toys that it was a painful and torturous experience for anyone who took me shopping. I’d stand in the toy aisle with that dollar bill clutched in my chubby baby hand, debating the merits of all the possibilities my money could buy. Did I want Sea Monkeys or a plastic jewelry set? Toy cars? Watercolor paints or new crayons? Paper dolls? Chalk or maybe a ping-pong paddle? A parachute guy might be fun, but plastic farm animals would be fun too. I could use that toy boat in my grandparents’ pool. Bubbles!!!! Oooohhhh, a water gun! There were just so many choices, my wee indecisive brain went into overdrive mulling over the possibilities. A dollar meant one toy, which meant one opportunity to make the right decision. I couldn’t mess this up. I wanted the biggest bang for my buck!
Who knows how long I stood there, staring up at the wall of cheap, plastic toys. It was obviously long enough for my young uncle to run out of patience. He started making suggestions. What about that bracelet set? Hmmm… I wasn’t sure. You can’t go wrong with bubbles! Hmmmm...maybe. Crayons? Look at all the pretty colors! Yeah...but didn’t Nana and Grampy already have crayons at their house? Was that the best way to spend my dollar? I weighed each suggestions carefully before dismissing it. I needed more time. Toy shopping was an important process – one that couldn’t be rushed.
Uncle Gary obviously didn't respect the process, nor did he understand the heavy responsibility that came with spending a dollar.
In a last, desperate attempt to get me out of LaVerdiere’s Drug Store, he snatched a foam superhero glider off the wall and like a greasy, used car salesman, began his pitch. “Look at this Julie! This is really fun! It flies! If I had a dollar, this is the toy I’d pick! You should get this! It’s neat!” I took the glider from his hands and examined it. It really flies, huh? Like a real, live airplane? Like Superman? Like my hero/boyfriend Mighty Mouse? And Uncle Gary, an adult I love and trust is vouching for this toy? Well, alrighty, then! Sold!
He led me to the counter where I paid for it all by myself, and we drove the five minutes back to my grandparents’ house, which felt like five hours. I couldn’t wait to play with my new toy! I knew it would be just as fun as Uncle Gary promised! I raced to the backyard and bounced up and down on the concrete steps in excitement while he assembled my neato new glider. I bet it would fly all around the yard. It might even fly to outer space where the Jetsons lived! He put the new toy in my hand and showed me how to pull my arm back to throw it. I did it just as he showed me and let it go, expecting it to fly, fly, fly up into the sky!
The glider took a nosedive.
I tried again. It plummeted like a rock.
I’ve never had much patience. I threw it again, this time as hard as my uncoordinated little arm could throw it.
The thin foam broke in two as it crashed nose-first to the ground.
I stared at the ruined glider in horror. It didn’t fly to outer space to visit the Jetsons, or fly high in the air like Superman or Mighty Mouse. It didn’t even make one lousy lap around my grandparents’ yard. What an awful piece of junk! Uncle Gary was a liar! My lower lip quivered. My big, gray eyes overflowed with tears, as my small body heaved with wracking sobs. All the time and effort spent picking out the perfect toy, wasted! My dollar, gone! And all because I listened to my lying Uncle Gary who was a big, mean dumb-head and a bad uncle! I unleashed the full weight of my four-year-old wrath on him. “You made me buy a cheap toy!” I screeched through my tears. Thinking I was hurt, Nana ran outside as fast as her stumpy legs could carry her to see why I was crying. I threw myself into her arms, knowing she’d be on my side because I was her special girl. “Uncle Gary made me buy a cheap toy! It’s broken! It’s all his fault!” I wailed as I pointed an accusatory finger at him. Nana did her best to comfort me, but Uncle Gary laughed, which made me shed more angry tears. I was mad, and I told everyone for days after that my mean, lying uncle made me waste my dollar on a cheap toy. Afterall, he was a grownup and should have known better!
A few months after the Great Superhero Glider Crash of 1980, I started preschool and celebrated my 5th birthday. Having a birthday in preschool was a very big deal, let me tell you! Our teacher made me a special crown I got to wear all day and told me I could have anything I wanted on it. I chose Caspar the Friendly Ghost since I’m a Halloween baby. That weekend was my joint birthday party with my baby brother, and the whole family was coming over for cake and ice cream. I couldn’t wait! TOYS!!!!! Not cheap toys either, like that crummy glider Uncle Gary forced me to buy. It was my birthday. I’d get nice presents from all my aunts and uncles. Maybe I’d get more stuffed animals or a Strawberry Shortcake doll! Wahoo!
I wore a little blue dress, bright white tights, and topped my outfit off with the very special preschool birthday crown my teacher made me. Our guests arrived, and my excitement mounted as each new present was added to the pile. Next to Christmas, this was the greatest day of the year! Mom read each card aloud, and I used my very best manners to thank my guests. I threw my arms around them and lavished them with hugs and kisses. I was even polite when I unwrapped clothes - the worst gift ever (or so I naively thought at the time). All my aunts, uncles, and grandparents gave me such fun presents, like the Strawberry Shortcake doll I wanted, books, and Play-Doh. My next present was from Uncle Gary. It was a thin, flat package. Maybe he got me new watercolor books or paint brushes!
He didn't.
Somewhere there’s a picture of the exact moment I opened his gift, but I haven’t been able to find it. I’m sitting crisscross-applesauce on the floor, and my mouth is hanging open in disbelief and dawning rage as I look at the two superhero gliders in my hands. He bought me two cheap toys that would break the second I tried to fly them. What a mean poo-poo head! I burst into tears, my voice hitching as I tried to get out all the words, “Uncle Gary…bought me… a cheap… toy!” I sobbed, while everyone laughed and laughed. I don’t think I spoke to him for the rest of the party, and I was mad at him for a long time after.
Every family has their own, unique love-language. The love-language of the LaViolet family is over-the-top teasing. You don’t survive without learning the valuable and healthy lesson of laughing at yourself, but five is too young to understand that. Uncle Gary must have realized it and felt a little bit guilty because not long after my birthday, he called and asked if he could stop by with a present for me. I scowled at my mom, “I don’t want to see Uncle Gary. I don’t like him anymore. He’s a bad uncle!” Clearly, I was still nursing a grudge.
When his car pulled into the driveway, I crossed my arms and glared out the window. I bet he bought me another cheap glider to make me cry more, and if he did, I’d throw it in his big, dumb face! I watched as he removed something much larger than a glider from his backseat. It looked like a picture frame. It was probably an ugly picture that would make me cry. He walked in, grinning from ear to ear. I gave him the dirtiest look I could muster, while wishing I was wearing my Wonder Woman Underoos. With my magic underwear, I'd have the same powers as Wonder Woman herself and I could pick him up and throw him out of my house! “I brought you something,” he said as he turned the picture frame around. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed in rapture at the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen in my entire life. Staring back at me, fist raised in the air, was my boyfriend, Mighty Mouse, brightly painted on – gasp - black velvet! Oh, how fancy! Only grown-ups had black velvet paintings like that! Maybe Uncle Gary wasn't the worst uncle in the history of the world. My cold, little heart thawed a bit towards him. Uncle Gary's gift went a long way towards repairing our relationship, though I never, ever took his advice while toy shopping again.
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