Toying With Creativity

I watched a documentary the other night called Eddy's World. It's about Eddy Goldfarb, who invented some of the most popular toys of the Baby Boomer era and, as of this writing, is still ticking away.

Eddy designed toys from a very young age, served as a radar expert on a sub during WWII and raised three children with his wife, Anita (they were together till the end of her life). At the time the video was made in 2020, he was still tinkering around with toys. 

Eddy's 100 years old.

Probably the most famous among Eddy's 800+ creations is the Yakity-Yak wind-up chattering teeth. The invention earned Eddy $700 – the novelty company that manufactured this classic made a fortune. 

Eddy's wife agreed to support the family for two years while Eddy invented. The early years were a struggle. The Goldfarbs moved from Chicago to California in 1952, where Eddy set up shop in the garage and continued to crank out ideas. Slowly, the business started to grow, and at the height of his career, Eddy was operating out of three buildings and employing 39 industrial designers, model makers, engineers, sculptors and administrative staff.  

Along with the wind-up chompers, popular toys and games Eddy invented include:

• Vac-U-Form: Turn a sheet of plastic into stuff (watch out for burns)
• KerPlunk: Pull a stick without dropping any marbles.
• Snakes Alive: "Featuring the Mystery Basket and the popping snake"
• Baby Beans: A beloved toy of my sister-in-law, Mary
• Bubble Gun: For those who enjoy blowing bubbles but don't want to waste their breath
• Busy Biddy Chicken: Press her head down, and she lays plastic eggs.
• Battling Tops: "It's in the wrist action."
• Quiz Wiz: Electronic game with 1,001 questions

Also, Eddy invented several early iterations of video games. 

His curiosity, eagerness to embrace new technology and determination to continue inventing are inspirational, indeed. 

In other words, Eddy has totally carpe'd the hell out of the diem. 

Ya, I want to be like Eddy.

One more fun fact...the documentary about Eddy was directed by his daughter, Lyn Goldfarb, who's an executive producer, director, producer, and writer with 2 Emmys and an Academy Award nomination under her belt. I recognized her name from some of the work she's done for PBS.

Ghosts of Birthdays Past

Mom's "Little Boo" cake creation

Birthdays put me in a weird place. 

There have been so many for me, but I can scarcely recall any of them. I do remember the year I got my Barbie doll. The special birthday cakes Mom baked and decorated. And, of course, the year my sister, Denise, got married on my birthday. (Happy Anniversary, Big Sis!)

I can hear David in my head, asking, "Is it a milestone?" 

No, this isn't a particularly special birthday. I haven't hit the Medicare years yet – I suppose that's the next milestone I have to look forward to. 

Honestly, these days, I have the feeling of being in a speeding car. I'm sitting in the backseat looking out the window at the world flying by so fast it's all a blur. My fingers dig into the upholstery, willing the car to stop, but I know when it does, it will be the end of my journey. 

Yep, birthdays for me are weird.

Thankfully, Denise sent me a box of cookies yesterday, so breakfast is covered. Mr. Ginley and I will eat out so I don't have to cook today. And Joe and Jill are having me over for breakfast tomorrow, so I'll have that to look forward to. 

Gee, at this stage of my life, it looks like birthdays come down to food. 

Might as well dig in and enjoy!

Berry Good Memories

My ideas about those who've passed may be considered quirky. 

But if you read my blog with any regularity, you should be used to my quirky nature by now.

I believe that those who are no longer with us find a way to communicate from wherever they are. I hear their voices in my heart, and occasionally, I see signs that are proof (at least to me) that they don't want to be forgotten.

I'm a firm believer in the penny thing. That is, when you see a penny, it means someone who died is reaching out. I saw a penny on the ground at my dad's funeral. And from time to time, I'll find one at other appropriate moments. Many folks will pooh-pooh this and call it coincidence.

Ya, whatever.

Last summer, a Rose of Sharon bush sprung up in our yard. Its blossoms returned again this year, and I'm enjoying them very much. The bush reminds me so much of my mom and brings back a lot of memories. Growing up, our backyard had a Rose of Sharon bush that Mom planted. The blooms were lovely, but they attracted bees that created a hazard for us. (The bush was third base, to the consternation of our matriarch.)

This summer, we have a new visitor to our menagerie of plants. As I was the cutting the lawn, I discovered blackberry bushes tucked away on the side of the house. A few days later I returned to collect the bounty, and as I enjoyed their sweet goodness, I was reminded of my childhood. My siblings and I had a spot we'd go to in the summertime to pick blackberries. We'd bring home buckets of them, and my mom would make blackberry pies. 

Alas, the place where we went berry picking was bulldozed a few years ago to make way for some unattractive shops. But the blackberries in my yard brought it all back to me.

A gift of memory.

Maybe when you've lost someone near to you, there's a desire to look for clues in the universe to explain their absence or try to bring them back.

Call it what you will. Call me nutty or quirky or whatever you like.

But I know what I know. And it makes me happy.

United We Stand

When you live with someone for 30+ years, it's easy to take them for granted. 

Then something happens, and you remember why you married them all those years ago.

We were watching television the other night, and a show came on about abortion in Ireland. Right-to-lifers were standing outside an abortion clinic being terrible human beings. Mr. Ginley started yelling at the TV set. We've been fortunate that we've never been faced with the prospect of abortion. But that doesn't mean we believe we can tell other women what to do with their bodies. 

But it gets more personal than that.

Years ago Mr. was doing genealogical research, and found his great aunt's death certificate. She died of septic shock after getting an illegal abortion. The family always purported the cause of death was the flu, so we have no idea what the circumstances were. She was single and working in service at the time. She was in her early 20s when she died. I think the specter of her death has had an impact of Mr. Ginley's perspective, particularly as he imagines what the future will be like for our granddaughters.

Thinking back, I imagine some of the guys I was attracted to growing up. And, based on their belief system, how I would have had to smother them in their sleep. Or divorce them. Either way.

I remind myself of this when Mr. and I don't see eye to eye on stupid little stuff. I'll grind my teeth and roll my eyes. But on the fundamentals, we're on the same page. 

When it comes to gay rights, Black Lives Matter, gun control and other causes, Mr. Ginley and I also track. We've marched together and voted together and signed petitions. 

So yes, I get annoyed when Mr. gets anal about this or that. But when it comes to what matters most, we're in the same camp.

And that makes me a happy camper.

Reclamation

I remember seeing a special on public television about how quickly nature reclaims property abandoned by humans.

see photo attribution below

Flora and fauna alike are complicit in disseminating homes, palaces, amusement parks and just about any structure that was once the pride and joy of some human or other who's most likely residing on the celestial plane these days.

I thought about this the other day as I viewed my asphalt driveway. From the time we moved in, the forces of nature have conspired to break up the asphalt with weedy intruders and, most recently, ruthless groundhogs who dig tunnels beneath what used to be our garage floor.

When we were younger, Mr. Ginley would spend hours digging out the weeds from the cracks. The other day, he ordered me to acquire a weed whacker and have at them.

I pointed out that whacking the weeds would become a weekly activity, since only the tops are lopped off.

"Well, you could spend a couple of hours digging them out," he replied. Ya, um, no.

Instead, I tried pouring vinegar on the weedy intruders in an effort to kill them at the roots. We'll see how that works.

In the meantime, I stumbled on a book called Naturalia, featuring photographs by "Jonk" Jimenez. He traveled across Europe and took snaps of various places that have been reclaimed by Mother Nature. I'm going to see if his book is available at the library. (Yes, I'm a cheapskate, whatever.) Anyhow if you want to know more about the photographer, here's the Jonk Photography web page promoting his concept of reclamation, which has a slide show of some of his work.

I think the lesson in all of this is that our time here is marked, and in the end, everything reverts to its natural state. 

So, enjoy your home, make it work for you. And if you enjoy going head-to-head with weeds, have at it. But also, admit that ultimately the weeds are going to win. 

And maybe that's not really such a terrible thing after all. 

Public domain photo by Mark Ahsmann, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons