For the Sake of Sentimentality

You know how some days are good days, and some days just suck?

Well - today was a really good day.  I spent the day with my mom and we shopped and chatted and laughed and just enjoyed being able to spend some time together.  Shopping for us is a very loose term.  Today's shopping included her buying a birthday card for a friend and me buying a pair of $8.00 cotton jammie bottoms.  Jammie bottoms and t-shirts are kinda what I live in these days as a lady of a certain age (y'all, I was born to be retired, I swear).


anyhoooo - a good day that kinda went downhill.


Do you sometimes feel like that skinny guy on the beach who used to get sand kicked in his face?  Remember him?

That's sorta how I was feeling.

But while I was talking to Donald about it, I noticed a goofy little something that made me smile.  Made me completely forget about the unimportant poop that had me a little down for a little while.  It also made me go look up an older post I did here.  I re-worked it a little, but some of you may remember it.

We've been talking about collecting and collections here a lately.

Those of us who have this "collecting gene" also keep things purely for their sentimental value.

There are things sitting around in this house that would never be here (please believe me) if it weren't for the sentiment that comes with it - which makes it so infinitly valuable, that it become quite virtually - priceless.

Here's my prime example - - -

 

When I was growing up my parents loved to take family car trips. Did y'all do that? And while the drives seemed forever, they were well thought out with things to keep everyone entertained, and they were fun. 

Games included seeing how many different states were represented by the license plates of other cars on the highway. Back then highways weren't the wild and crazy and scary super expressways we have now with people flying by at a beezillion miles an hour intent on reaching the end of the journey, with the journey itself not being a part of the fun.

We sang. 

I was not a child who sang well, just as I'm not an adult who sings well. But - oh well, it's still fun. One of the songs my mother and I sang was "Playmate, Come Out and Play With Me." Remember it? I loved that song! Still do.

OH PLAYMATE, COME OUT & PLAY WITH ME

(Words and music by Saxie Dowell)
Copyright 1940 by Santly-Joy-Select Inc.

There's a catchy little tune a floatin' through the air,

You hear it here and there,

They sing it ev'ry where

How it started, where it started

seems nobody knows.

But what's the diff'rence where it came from,

here's the way it goes

Oh PLAYMATE, come out and play with me

And bring your dollies three.

Climb up my apple tree,

Look down my rain barrel

Slide down my cellar door

And we'll be jolly friends forever more.

It was a rainy day, She couldn't come out to play,

With tearful eyes and tender sighs

I could hear her say:

I'm sorry Playmate, I cannot play with you

My dollies have the flu,

Boo-hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo.

Ain't got no rain barrel,

Ain't got no cellar door

But we'll be jolly friends forever more.

Then I grew up and moved away from home and the family car trips were a thing of the past.  (Donald and I take car trips, but he won't sing "The Playmate Song" with me.  Actually, he'd rather I not sing.  And sometimes when I do, he hangs his head out the window. And howls).

anyhoooo - I meander . . . 

I grew up and moved away from home . . .

Mother and Dad were taking vacations without me. But, memories are amazing things, and the memory of us singing "The Playmate Song" had stayed with us all.

On one of their trips my dad came across a music box. Not just any ol' music box. This one played "The Playmate Song." When he showed it to my mother, they both just hooted and laughed because it was without a doubt the most singularly ridiculous looking music box in the history of music boxes. And it made no sense at all. Why THIS particular music box played "The Playmate Song" made not a whit of sense. But. There it was. It brought back fun memories, and it made my mom and dad laugh. So they bought it for me.

I don't remember the occasion on which it was given - either a birthday, or Christmas. But I do remember opening the package and looking at this thing and thinking "whaaaaaat . . . " Then my dad said, "turn it on." Turn it on? Whaaaaat . . . .? Took me a minute to figure out what he meant, but I did and when I turned the little thingie and heard that song I was filled with emotion. And cried. Of course. I am a tad sentimental and shed tears easily.

That was probably 35 years ago.

I still have this funny little music box, and it still works, and it still makes me smile. It's not going anywhere.

How 'bout you guys - do you have some things sitting around your homes that are there simply because of the memories attached to them?  Memories that make them much too valuable to ever part with them?  And that can make you smile after you feel like somebody kicked sand in your face?