ROSEBUD SYNDROME

Somebody might say I have too much time on my hands,

searching E-Bay for more than three hours one evening.

I found a rodeo belt buckle like the one my Dad won in Vegas.

I found Bukowski’s typewriter, (same model) a 30’s Underwood.

I even placed a bid on a purple Tonka jeep like the one I got on

a Saturday morning in the living room with the divorce lawyers.

I found a 1972 Gunsmoke lunchbox with a thermos, like mine.

I took it to kindergarten at Cherry Street School. I bid $85, hoping

I would not get it since my wife would consider it a waste of money.

Of course it went a lot higher, not as much as the Scooby Doo one

I’d begged my mother for as a replacement. I knew not to bother.

I found my Evel Knievel doll, Action Jackson, my Joe Namath figure,

and Captain Maddox, an eleven inch figure complete with three

different hats, canteen, branding iron, weapons, a little coffee pot.

I was tempted to bid on them all, the toys I spent so much time with

all alone as a child. I wanted Star Wars cards, a Viewmaster, a prop

from Sanford & Son, Olivia Walton’s blue tea kettle, a set of glasses

used by the Brady Bunch. I’ve got a MasterCard and a Pay Pal too!

I thought of the joy each of these would bring as I remembered

my past, realizing it really wasn’t such a rotten childhood after all.

But being conservative and sensible, I bought post cards instead.

Places I loved as a boy and I thought of how I’d buy some frames

to hang them above my desk, knowing one day I’d get my lunchbox.