In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Toy Story.”


My favourite toy as a child was a board game that my Grandpa created.  It was called Aggravation, similar to Sorry, but created long before that board game became popular.  Instead of plastic pieces it used marbles.  Each person had a set of coloured marbles and the goal of the game was to get all your marbles home.  A deck of cards was used and each face card had a value of ten, the ace had a value of one.  I no longer remember the finer details of the game. The board was white with decals in each corner.  The marbles moved around the board and settled into spaces that were carved out for them to rest.  There was a lip around the board to keep the marbles from rolling on the floor.

One vivid summer day my Grandpa and I were partners against my older sister and brother.  It came down to the wire with my siblings hot on our heels.  We were one space away from winning and I drew an Ace.  I’ll never forget how I felt when I put the ace down and my Grandpa and I won.  Teamwork, and even though I was a child I was able to offer something in that moment.

I suppose this shaped me.  I never coveted toys as a child. I instead spent time making up games and living different lives.  I imagined I was an Archeologist and dug a very large hole in our back yard to unearth artifacts, a nail, a rock, a spring, cataloging each item. I played street hockey in the back alley and dreamed of playing in the NHL.  She shoots, she scores!  My friend and I ran a bar and created an elaborate menu, all  a version of saltine crackers, peanut butter and water which we sold to her younger brother for a tidy profit. I imagined  myself a writer and wrote stories about people I knew, creating lives for them far more amazing, heroic and adventurous, then what seemed to me to be their truly boring existence. I found a pallet in the back alley and dragged it home as the base for my clubhouse.  I rode my bike to find the end of the rainbow.  I spent the money during that ride.  I never found the pot of gold, though the journey was golden.

I wonder in this world of over indulged, over scheduled and over tired life of a present day child if there is enough time to dream, imagine and create? I hope so, I know my life is richer for the experience.

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Writing and photography are my first and second loves and thanks to technology I have the ability to share with a larger audience, including family and friends. Gone are the days of lugging around photo albums after a trip and of keeping a written journal of the experience that only I would view. The days of the handwritten letters are gone, but blogging provides a chance to share ideas, thoughts and photographs with a few mouse clicks and to receive instant feedback from around the world. It provides an opportunity to research a new place and to see that place through the eyes of a multitude of people each with their own unique way of viewing and experiencing the world. It opens the world wide and allows us a front row seat. Blogging connects us and creates a family of support. It provides an outlet and a chance to perfect the craft of writing and story telling. When I sit in my living room drinking my coffee and see that someone from another part of the world has read my words, and then I read theirs, the world is much smaller and more attainable. We are more alike than different as we share uniquely human experiences. Once I had a dream of becoming a Journalist, but somehow life got in the way. I currently have a fantastic career in healthcare and know that I have made a difference so I have no regrets. Still, I wonder if there is time to explore the road less travelled?

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