Calvin's Beanie Cap
As
we reach our so-called Golden Years, some of the simplest things can often
bring back memories of our childhood; perhaps our inner child is just waiting
beneath the cloudiness of our minds to come forth again, to relive a past still
grieved for. The glory days of our youth.
I
experienced such a phenomenon a few years ago while reading the current story
line of my favorite comic strip by Bill Watterson. For those that may not be
familiar with Calvin And Hobbs, it was about a young boy and his imaginary
friend, a stuffed tiger. Every mother would have recognized something in Calvin
that reminded them of their own son, or perhaps a daughter. For the comic strip
boy was a little of all of us.
In
this particular story line, Calvin has found an ad on the back of a comic book
for a beanie cap, one of those ball caps with a propeller on top that would
whirl in the wind as he ran. He sends off for this special cap, and now must
wait for several weeks for it to come in. The story follows Calvin for the next
several weeks, as he anxiously thinks about this special toy he has ordered.
Whether
Watterson intended it or not, the strip jarred a lot of memories. I know it did
mine. I was ten years old again, and living across from the Memorial Auditorium
in Wichita Falls. My older sister had just married, and her husband got me a
job as pin boy at a Bowling Alley. Back then, they used small boys to set up
the pins between the bowlers' turns because we were fast and could easily get
into the pit. If I remember correctly, a little light would flash when our lane
was to be set up, and we would drop into the pit, set the pins in place, then
get out again before the next ball was thrown. At least that was the way it was
supposed to happen. I worked as pin boy for a several weeks, until one night a
drunk clobbered me with a bowling ball while I was still setting up pins. After
tangling with that bowling ball, I quit. Remember, I was only ten years old. If
that happened today, parents would be millionaires after the lawsuit.
Back then I was
probably paid twenty-five cents a night. Or at the most, fifty cents a night.
But it gave me some spending money. And this is where my beanie cap comes in.
Well, it wasn't really a beanie cap, but the principle is the same. At the
time, my favorite radio drama was a program called Straight Arrow, about a
white cowboy in the West that dressed up like an Indian to fight outlaws. When
Straight Arrow was needed, the cowboy would head off to a cave, where his
Indian pony and outfit were hidden. When he rode out of the cave, he was no
longer the white man, but an Indian. Remember the Lone Ranger always used
silver bullets? Well, our Indian hero used arrows with golden tips!
Our main family
entertainment at the time was radio. I remember listening to such great
programs as Bobby Benson and The B-Bar-B, The Shadow, Lineup, Gunsmoke, and so
many others. There was also a Straight Arrow (or was it Golden Arrow?) comic
book, and one day I found an ad on the back of an issue; for twenty-five cents
and fifty Popsicle wrappers, I could have my very own Straight Arrow bracelet
with a hidden compartment! I asked all my friends to save their Popsicle
wrappers for me, and when I had enough, I mailed them off with a quarter. For
the next few weeks, I anxiously awaited my golden bracelet with the hidden
compartment.
My excitement
rivaled that of Calvin's when the package finally arrived, and I tore open the
wrapping to find the cheap gold colored bracelet inside, and opened the secret
compartment to find - a golden arrowhead! Well, it too was a cheap toy, but I
was thrilled. I wore the bracelet until it was lost or stolen by another boy.
Like Calvin, it probably didn't last me more than a couple of weeks.
I would fall for
these gimmicks two more times. When my parents lost the small trailer house, we
moved to Broad Street, between 3rd and 4th Streets, a
half block from San Jacinto School, and behind the Boys Club. I was now eleven
years old, and my remaining sister married and moved away, leaving me the only
child left at home. Plus, I now had a room to myself, and a friend gave me a
little plastic radio to listen to the many programs for entertainment. My next
experience with mail order came when I found an ad on back of another comic
book for walkie-talkies. My buddies and I were using tin cans with a string
tied between them to talk to each other. But the picture on the comic book made
these items look like the real things. So off goes my twenty-five cents. Sadly,
a few weeks later, I received two tiny, plastic toys that were supposed to be
walkie-talkies - attached to a thin string!
I should have
learned my lesson with the second order, but youth is forever optimistic, and once
again I was bitten by an ad on the back of a comic book. This time, no kid in
their right mind could pass up this opportunity! For twenty-five cents, I could
send off for a miniature spaceport that glowed in the dark. Oh, be still
beating heart. The whole back cover of that comic book was devoted to the
spaceport, and all the pieces I was going to get for my quarter. It didn't take
me but a minute to fill out the order form and put it in an envelope. Oh, I
waited and watched for the mail every day, until it finally came. But the
package was so tiny, how could the spaceport fit in such a small box? Tearing
into the wrapper, I found the little box with miniature objects that passed for
rocket ships and launchers, and all the other stuff that a spaceport needed. I
was heartbroken, but there was still hope. Tonight, with darkness, I could turn
my lights out, shut the door, and surely the spaceport would light up my room,
and I could see those tiny rocket ships. That night, the disappointment was
complete when the spaceport barely made as much light as the hands and numbers
on a wristwatch.
That was the last time I ever ordered
something from the back of a comic book. But I shouldn't be too critical. The
items offered on the back of comic books were either for a dime or twenty-five
cents. If I had kept those little toys, they would be worth hundreds of dollars
now. Antique dealers and collectors sell these items for lots of money today.
Even the comic books I ordered them from are worth a small fortune! Today I
still listen to old time radio. Here is my favorite Internet station http://www.theiotrs.com The programs are
repeated three times a day, so I can pick the time to listen to my favorites.
Calvin, like
Peter Pan, will never grow old. And as a little boy I never wanted to grow up.
When I look back on the days of my youth, the little boy within me smiles, and
I wonder if I ever did …
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