I fully admit to being a nostalgic sap. Looking at old pictures or rummaging through boxes of old stuff always seems to put me in the scenario where I look up at the clock and an hour has gone by and I forgot why I had originally looked through these things in the first place.
So since Riley was born and since I get this nostalgic trait from my mom, I have thoroughly enjoyed watching my son play with the old toys that my mother has kept in the attic for the past few decades. Riley has thoroughly enjoyed playing with my old Matchbox cars which are timestamped from the 1970's and probably have lead based paint on them. I have been thrown back in time reading my old books to him - specifically "Elmer's a Big Boy Now"; the coming of age tale of a young elephant and his epic quest to use the potty. However, in playing with these Matchbox cars or reading about Elmer's digestive issues, I can't really say when the last time I actually interacted with these things myself. I remember playing with them and I remember reading them. However, I can't really capture the final moments when I put them away for the last time and relegating them to decades of waiting until the next generation of Delps were ready to enjoy them again.
That is until this last time in Pennsylvania. Riley is now 4 and has graduated to a few more mature (i.e. potentially edible) toys. Specifically Lego's. Now, I used to LOVE playing with Lego's. I would spend Sunday afternoons pouring out thousands of pieces onto my bed and then carefully constructing various planes, forts, all-terrain vehicles and vast worlds typically living somewhere in the outer reaches of the solar system. I would have a plan in my head. I would find certain pieces and set them aside or put them in my mouth (which occasionally led to the accidental ingestion of a red plastic light) and then slowly construct my masterpiece.
One afternoon, I saw that Mom had brought down my old Tupperware container of Legos. I opened it up so Riley could play with them and found this:
It is vintage elementary school Ryan: a Gatling gun, a captain's chair and storage for various space equipment. Here in my hand was a picture of me that was probably 25 years old. At some point in my young life (probably a Sunday afternoon), I was creating this space vehicle and for one reason or another, put it in my Tupperware container to come back to it another day. Only that day never came. So here was a physical snapshot of an actual moment from my childhood. A window into my young creativity that I could hold in my hands. Riley asked to hold it in his hands too which I allowed but only as I watched him as if he were holding a Faberge egg.
Riley was obviously less impressed and wanted me to build him something which I gladly did. The moment sent me back in time and my building juices started flowing. I began making little planes and cars and boats. Riley, however, wanted to simply play. Once his creation was built, he wanted to just play. I wanted to build. At one point, he finally said, "Daddy, will you stop building and play with me?" So I obliged and father and son drove our vehicles over the piles of Legos that used to consume my mind and Sunday afternoons.
Riley was in a garbage truck mood so I built him this:
It was the first creation I had made since that space battleship circa 1980-something. Since then I had graduated high school and college, traveled the world, fell in love with a beautiful woman and had two gorgeous kids. One of which was now driving over the Legos and picking up the small pieces because they were "garbage." To me, these were not garbage. They were a piece of my childhood, an express trip down memory lane, a reminder of how I would spend my Sunday afternoons.
I can't wait to play Legos with Riley again. We will have new creations to build. Now if I could just find that red plastic light?
