November 21, 2017

Building Blocks

• By John F. Chisholm •

I walked to our middle field yesterday.  There are a number of trees along the northern edge that I’m keeping my eye on.  They’re not doing well.  Regardless, walking there and back along Tay Road, I found a number of Lego pieces.  A child must have lost them from their family’s car.  Thoughtfully, I picked them up, dropping them in my pocket.  Two are blue capping blocks, three are ordinary, red, building bricks and one is yellow and unidentifiable.

Oh, I’m certain that a Lego Master would recognize that last one.

Alas!  I’m a rank amateur, myself.

Oh, I remember stepping on Lego blocks in a dark bedroom, tiptoeing in to kiss my son goodnight.

I remember cursing Legos under my breath, too, picking the sharp, plastic shards out of their imprints in the soles of my feet and vainly attempting escape without stepping on others.

Never mind.  I got over that.  I had to.

Because I remember buying Nathan Lego sets for Christmas.  We’d carefully build what was in the picture, following directions, stretched out on the floor together.  Then, invariably, he’d disassemble that.  The modifications usually began slowly.  Then the pirate ship would grow wheels.  The dragsters would sprout sails and Ninja figures with Western hair styles would steer them.  Meanwhile, the pirates and a few policemen hung out together, populating the bedroom shelves.

They all had names once.

Eventually, the original model would disappear entirely and the parts scatter throughout the house.

I picked up Lego blocks for close to a decade.  We purchased a big yellow Lego bucket to hold them all.  No matter.  None of them ever lived there, not, at least, while my son was home.

The result?  It was with curious nostalgia that I picked up those five, lost Legos from beside the road.  I remember that particular activity so very well.  I was a lot younger then.  My son was, too.  He’s twenty-eight today.  I don’t believe he’s even thought of Legos for at least a decade.

I haven’t either.  Isn’t it curious how things that were once a big part of our lives fade gradually as other interests take over?  I added those five pieces to that big yellow Lego bucket in our game closet wondering.

My son is marrying next month.  Hmmm.  I understand that his bride is interested in children.

You know, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if these Legos were to ride again.