"Raisins Kill Your Soul"

Do you see the one in the middle? I totally had him. And the trumpet guy. But the raisin I remember best had red and white checkered glasses and sneakers and pointed in both directions with his hands. That guy had a special position of honor on my wooden bunk bed post. He stood as sentinel of my dreams throughout my formative years, as I grew up in the Blue House. Heather, do you have the picture of the raisin and me posing on my bed with my red and white checkered shades on?

Why were those guys so cool? Did they have their own TV show? Were they cereal box celebrities? Or were they advertising icons? Let's take a look at the 1986's California Raisin "claymation" phenomenon:

What were the fates of my precious little figurines? I don't recall. I probably gnawed off their arms and had to throw them away when I was 11 or 12. I definitely didn't hold them in the same regard that I did my prized box of Star Wars action figures.

My Star Wars guys were kept safe in a Snoopy lunch box where my sisters couldn't get at them. I think I cherished those action figures over any other I owned because of their cost. Naturally, I didn't pay for them in dollars; I paid for them in weeks of not wetting-the-bed. If I could make it two weeks without wetting my sheets at night, my mom would reward me by purchasing one Star Wars Action figure of my choosing. (Frankly, I'm alarmed now to think how many weeks I required to learn to control myself, based on the large number of figures I acquired. On the other hand, maybe I should give myself more credit for drawing out the reward cycle for as long as possible. Mom, you'll have to leave a comment explaining how you eventually weened me off of the action figures.)

My Star Wars Guys and I would spend long hours together both inside and outside the house. I would go spend hours positioning each soldier for elaborate battles between the Rebel Alliance and Vader's forces of darkness. Each side would have a sniper, a heavy gunner, a mechanic, a vehicle, a "Force-manipulator," plenty of infantry (I used green army men as mercenaries on both sides), and leftover Transformers if I felt the sides needed to be evened up. Battles were often graphic and boisterous; spit would fly everywhere as a result of my exhaustive machine-gun mouth noises.

The ultimate battles, however, were fought outside where we were unrestrained by physical boundaries. Many times, bases would be on complete opposite sides of the house. It was important to take advantage of the extra space by hiding every figurine in the most-difficult-place-to-see-ever: in a dilapidated cereal box stashed middle of the large trash bin, high in tree branches, and buried under mounds of dirt. Sometimes it would take me many days of searching to finally reclaim the warriors who were left behind from previous battles.

Those were good days.

Now, my collection of heroes have been past on to the next generation. Tanner, use them well--they can teach you many things. (Heather, maybe you should wash them before the little ones put them in their mouths.)

*btw, this post's title is a shout out to my friend, Eve, whose blog is very cool.

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Listening to: Glenn Miller Big Band - In The Mood