When I was younger, I wanted a lot of things – in a very literal sense. I didn’t just look at objects as the ‘next thing to get’ as much as I viewed them as fulfilling a part of me that I felt was missing. It wasn’t just about filling a missing void, however; there was also a part of me that loved the anticipation that came from knowing something was on the way.
Around the time I was 10 years-old, I remember flipping through Popular Science and seeing a smal black-and-white advertisement in the very back (similar version pictured below)
It was an advertisment for a ‘wrist rocket’ slingshot, and I begged my parents to get it for me. After a considerable amount of time, they agreed and I eagerly followed the instructions to mail in my payment, sticking the envelope in our mailbox for the mailman to pick up the next day.
As a boy, I didn’t just see an advertisement for a slingshot. Rather, I saw an image of a confident boy that I wanted to be me; taking my slingshot and hitting targets a mile away with precision accuracy I knew could only come from a masterpiece that I believed the wrist rocket to be. I dreamed about ‘hunting’ trips involving a trail-bound backpack, tent and sleeping bag by an open fire while the coyotees howled at the moon.
It wasn’t just a slingshot to me. Rather, it was the ticket to becoming the wildnerness-bound young man I fantasized about being; complete with boots and a faithful hunting dog that never left my side, or needed a leash.
As soon as the stamp-laden envelope slipped into our mailbox, I started one of the most torturous periods of my young life; the waiting period. I didn’t know when the wrist rocket would arrive – I simply knew it was coming. I checked the mailbox, multiple times a day, for weeks. To this day, I still remember the way the cold metal handle felt as the sides scraped open as I pulled it down; eager to feel a heavy mailbox.
Day after day, I raced to the mailbox (repeatedly) only to be disappointed the box wasn’t there yet. “Will it ever get here?” “did they make a mistake?” “Will today be the day” I thought.
One morning, my Dad woke me up while it was still dark outside, telling me he had a surprise for me. He handed me a small carboard box; in my mind, it was greater than a treasure chest. I tore it open and there it was…
The wrist rocket had arrived.
Words can’t describe the excitement I felt as I unboxed her, eagerly loading the handle with the included ‘tracer rounds’ of slingshot ammo; small, white marbles that neatly tucked into a compartment hidden in the wrist rocket. Moments later, I took it outside and fired my first round at a tree in our yard. It took me a few times, but I was eventually able to hit it with deadly accuracy.
I never took the hunting trip with a faithful dog, or camped underneath open stars with a campfire raging while my trustworthy slingshot kept the camping party safe from wild animals.
That wasn’t the point.
What mattered in this whole episode was that my imagination as a young child was kept alive and encouraged to run wild and free, and that mattered a lot.
Now that I’m a Dad, I see the same imaginative spirit in Atlas. Few things bring him greater joy than picking out a new costume, toy or piece of weaponry that he wields like a little warrior.
Because I remember the excitement I felt when my Dad woke me up with a new package, I do the same thing for Atlas when he’s asleep and a package arrives; sneaking quietly to the front door and waking him up with the box as soon as his little eyes are open.
Kids and adults should be encouraged to dream and let their imaginations run wild. In many cases, life (or parents) tend to beat out the imaginative spirit from a child; dousing them with cold showers of ‘reality checks’ that are absolutely soul-crushing for a child (and adult).
So much of our human experience happens inside of our minds, rather than our concrete circumstances or environment. There’s a saying that goes something like this:
“The mind is its own place, and it can make heaven – a hell, hell – a heaven.”
As the years have gone by, I’ve learned the invaluable lesson that no one thing, person, place or achievement will ever ‘set me free’ and make the rest of my life a magical wonderland. However, I’ve learned that there is some element and virtue in keeping your dreaming heart alive.
In many ways, I’ve exchanged my wrist rocket for other things – like the 944. However, there’s something I’ve learned along the way; these things will never complete me, but it’s ok to look forward to something that’s around the corner. Hope is a powerful energy in this world, and it can truly keep you alive when you have it in your heart.
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