![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Lawn Darts
Mar. 21st, 2010 01:51 pmThis a story that I've never told anyone, although some folks who may read this were there at the time. They probably don't remember and even if they do, they don't have my perspective on the matter. Truth be told, it was many years before I was able to articulate exactly why giving me a simple gift became a childhood trauma that I remember to this day.
I'm only telling this now because I'd like to set the record straight and because I would like to make it clear to my current friends why you should NEVER give me an IOU as a gift, unless you're really, Really, REALLY sure you can fulfill the promise made. I'd far rather not get a present than get a broken IOU. Heck, I'd rather get a punch in the stomach than an unfilled IOU. Since I've gotten a number of such unfilled IOUs over the years (although none this millennium, thankfully), I'm telling this story.
It starts sometime when I was, I would guess, around six years old. My parents owned a Motel at the time and were running themselves ragged trying to keep it going. I know this now, but at the time all I knew was that I was feeling terribly neglected. The thing I wanted most was to spend more time with my parents, but it seemed to my perspective be an incredibly rare thing.
At some point my parents went away for a while. I don't remember why or for how long, but I suspect it was some short amount of time as part of a business trip. Perhaps they were only gone over night. I don't really remember any of the details. All I remember is waking up after they had returned to find that they had brought us all presents.
I don't remember what my older brother Marcus got, but I remember that my younger brother Vaughan got a wooden flute or recorder of some type. I didn't think much of it as a gift, but it wasn't mine so I didn't really care.
My gift turned out to be a large box of 'lawn darts' which was sort of a cross between darts and horse-shoes. You were supposed to put these plastic hoops on the grass as targets and take turns throwing the large (1 foot long) plastic-and-metal darts and trying to get them to stick into the ground inside the hoops.
I took one look at the box and burst into incoherent tears and refused to have anything to do with the game. My parents were mystified and I was unable to explain my intense distress. The fact was, the box clearly said on the side 'Fun for the WHOLE FAMILY' and showed Mom, Dad and two kids happily playing and I knew instantly that the whole family would never play this game; my parents would never take the time. I had been given a gift that, I thought, could only be played with my parents, something I would have loved, but that would never happen.
I felt like someone had just given me a broken promise for the thing I wanted most in the entire world. My parents could have salvaged the entire thing then and there by saying 'Hey, its not that bad a game. Lets go outside and set it up and try it out!'. That would have solved the problem, but of course they didn't know why I was so upset and came to the conclusion that I had decided it was a game I hated. They were right, but for all the wrong reasons.
That box of lawn darts sat in my closet for YEARS as a symbol of every broken promise that had ever been made to me. Sometimes I'd take it out and play around with the bits and then carefully put it all back, in the vain hope that somehow, someday, one of my parents would fulfill the promise and actually ask me to take it out to play with. They never did, and the game of lawn darts was never played.
One day, in an attempt to find spare parts to fix a lamp, my Father found the box of lawn darts in my closet and cannibalized it. I was furious with him, and he never understood. He just kept repeating 'But you never played with it!'. I don't know that I've ever really forgiven him for that.
So, to this day, when I open a birthday card or Christmas package and see a handmade 'coupon redeemable for a gift' or a note saying that a gift will be coming shortly, it all comes back to me, and I'm filled with dread. The dread only goes away when the gift is actually delivered, and more than once the giver has neglected to fulfill the promise, never realizing that what they've actually given me is a reminder of a very painful part of my childhood, one that I'd just as soon forget.
I'm only telling this now because I'd like to set the record straight and because I would like to make it clear to my current friends why you should NEVER give me an IOU as a gift, unless you're really, Really, REALLY sure you can fulfill the promise made. I'd far rather not get a present than get a broken IOU. Heck, I'd rather get a punch in the stomach than an unfilled IOU. Since I've gotten a number of such unfilled IOUs over the years (although none this millennium, thankfully), I'm telling this story.
It starts sometime when I was, I would guess, around six years old. My parents owned a Motel at the time and were running themselves ragged trying to keep it going. I know this now, but at the time all I knew was that I was feeling terribly neglected. The thing I wanted most was to spend more time with my parents, but it seemed to my perspective be an incredibly rare thing.
At some point my parents went away for a while. I don't remember why or for how long, but I suspect it was some short amount of time as part of a business trip. Perhaps they were only gone over night. I don't really remember any of the details. All I remember is waking up after they had returned to find that they had brought us all presents.
I don't remember what my older brother Marcus got, but I remember that my younger brother Vaughan got a wooden flute or recorder of some type. I didn't think much of it as a gift, but it wasn't mine so I didn't really care.
My gift turned out to be a large box of 'lawn darts' which was sort of a cross between darts and horse-shoes. You were supposed to put these plastic hoops on the grass as targets and take turns throwing the large (1 foot long) plastic-and-metal darts and trying to get them to stick into the ground inside the hoops.
I took one look at the box and burst into incoherent tears and refused to have anything to do with the game. My parents were mystified and I was unable to explain my intense distress. The fact was, the box clearly said on the side 'Fun for the WHOLE FAMILY' and showed Mom, Dad and two kids happily playing and I knew instantly that the whole family would never play this game; my parents would never take the time. I had been given a gift that, I thought, could only be played with my parents, something I would have loved, but that would never happen.
I felt like someone had just given me a broken promise for the thing I wanted most in the entire world. My parents could have salvaged the entire thing then and there by saying 'Hey, its not that bad a game. Lets go outside and set it up and try it out!'. That would have solved the problem, but of course they didn't know why I was so upset and came to the conclusion that I had decided it was a game I hated. They were right, but for all the wrong reasons.
That box of lawn darts sat in my closet for YEARS as a symbol of every broken promise that had ever been made to me. Sometimes I'd take it out and play around with the bits and then carefully put it all back, in the vain hope that somehow, someday, one of my parents would fulfill the promise and actually ask me to take it out to play with. They never did, and the game of lawn darts was never played.
One day, in an attempt to find spare parts to fix a lamp, my Father found the box of lawn darts in my closet and cannibalized it. I was furious with him, and he never understood. He just kept repeating 'But you never played with it!'. I don't know that I've ever really forgiven him for that.
So, to this day, when I open a birthday card or Christmas package and see a handmade 'coupon redeemable for a gift' or a note saying that a gift will be coming shortly, it all comes back to me, and I'm filled with dread. The dread only goes away when the gift is actually delivered, and more than once the giver has neglected to fulfill the promise, never realizing that what they've actually given me is a reminder of a very painful part of my childhood, one that I'd just as soon forget.
