I suppose it’s a special melding of middle-age contemplation with holidays-past memories stirring my nostalgia. This season, I’m reflecting back to my boyishly excited anticipation of finding yet more Corgi Car additions packed into my h-u-g-e Christmas stocking, waiting at the foot of my bed each Christmas Day for me to waken.
Corgi Cars, for those unfamiliar, were scaled down die-cast metal car replicas made in England, often to very exacting specifications for what was ostensibly a kid’s toy. I vividly remember opening nearly all of them over the years — a collection that grew to over a hundred… all of which I played with incessantly and maintained impeccably.
This middle-aged man still has the entire collection carefully packed away in storage, with a special select few curated in the most unlikely of places within my home of design objects (like the yellow Jaguar Type-E strategically placed within the arrangement of applewood-smoked and grey salt cellars on my granite kitchen counters).
Like any other boy, I enjoyed them all, yet… yet, a few stood out as my “Dream Cars.” Ah, these were the cars I was driving when “I made it!” And, while yes, I did earn my dream cars, the dream changed along the way… refined, perhaps, by the reality of the day, as my real-life dream cars attained came from Germany and not England and Italy.
Merry Christmas. May you recall your dreams… and have experienced many of them… and appreciate life this season!
Like I said, though, this year I’m waxing nostalgically… and remembering those Corgi Cars… and recalling my Dream Cars… and The Dreams…
… And I’m just now old enough to be thankful for those dreams — and grateful for the opportunity to life and reaching most of them.