There are certain things from my childhood that I can never get back. I thought that this was one of them. This is a toybox that my grandfather made my father and my grandmother decorated with a cowboys and Native American decoration. When I first discoverd this box I was about ten years old. Inside of the box were little plastic army men, cowboys, indians, and horses, not to mention what i thought to be old stinky toys. My sister and I named my dad's teddy bear stinky. He was raggedy, but my father had a more affectionate name that I can no longer remember. While we played with these and my fathers treasure of board games I would picture him as a boy on the farm in Eden , Wyoming. The youngest of five all the other siblings years older so basically feeling like an only child. It brought me closer to understanding him.
After I moved out of my parents house I left much of my childhood. I was trying to distance myself from it. I didn't think i could hold on to it and still be an adult. Now I want so much of it back just to use the items as a time machine. I like being transported to the younger me, the sweeter me, the carefree me.
I got another glimpse of her this weekend. At one point Rachel painted over this box. To her it was decorated like a boy's box and by then didn't hold my father's past anymore. I was covered in blak and blue paint and stenciled with angels. I guess i shouldn't taken a picture for her to keep, but I didn't. She gave it to Zoe to keep her dress up things in. My mom told her that now she could decorate it anyway she wanted. I could have let her, but I didn't. I wanted to go backwards not forwards. i wanted to see the cowboy and Indian again. I stripped the paint and for a minute could see them fairly well. They faded as a inevitable side affect of the same chemicals brings me closer and then pulling me away again. My first thought was I could restore it, but I could never get it right. I decided to keep it like this. The closet it will ever be to restored. I still can see the face of the Native American warrior his bow and even the string still intact. Some of his feather are there. The cowboy is faceless and the horse is barely there. ( I feel like reading the Indian in the cupboard again.)
They don't make things like this anymore.these two figure survived so many things. The stuff we have today is not made to be kept. We are all about simplifying and getting rid of things. Clutter is a no no. So does that mean my grandchildren won't have a piece like this that they can.
Maybe there will be a quilt still remaining like there was of my father's mom. From that they may understand their parents and maybe me too. We used the quilt all up now. It was the warmest quilt i ever used. As a child i thought it was ugly. now I wish I could recreate the orange and black trip around the world quilt that she made. We called it the heavy woobie because it was hard to carry around when you are little. I also have a raggedy ann doll she made me. Which was the inspiration for the stuffies i've been making. i'm leaving a legacy. I want to see how far I can spread it and how long it lasts.
These are my sweet adorable kids on Archer's new bedspread. Archer also got a new Eric Carle t-shirt. He loves it! Zoe had to get a new fish Bluebell. He's a prince and we bought him a castle. Here's our new periwinkle bird. He's a parakeet named Winkie. We love him.
Front and back of my raggedy ann.
This was actually made for Melissa I think, but I loved it.
We had a holly Hobbie cushion on our toy box. (the one I repainted for Zoe and Archer)
There are certain things from my childhood that I can never get back. I thought that this was one of them. This is a toybox that my grandfather made my father and my grandmother decorated with a cowboys and Native American decoration. When I first discoverd this box I was about ten years old. Inside of the box were little plastic army men, cowboys, indians, and horses, not to mention what i thought to be old stinky toys. My sister and I named my dad's teddy bear stinky. He was raggedy, but my father had a more affectionate name that I can no longer remember. While we played with these and my fathers treasure of board games I would picture him as a boy on the farm in Eden , Wyoming. The youngest of five all the other siblings years older so basically feeling like an only child. It brought me closer to understanding him.
