I like characters who reach for what they really want, when
they could just as easily grab something easily accessible that would probably
make them decently happy.
When I was but a wee sprite, my sister and I decided that a
jewelry box was imperative to the game we
were playing. I ran upstairs to get
one. We had a dresser with shelves on top. On the bottom shelf, within easy
reach was a perfectly serviceable jewelry box. It was purple and had cartoon
drawings of jewelry on it. Who could ask for anything more?
Apparently Kid Me.
Because there on the top shelf, completely out of reach I
saw the red jewelry box. Now this box meant business. It was covered in crimson
velvet with gold piping. And it was no mere rectangle. Nay, it was more akin to
a fancy figure 8. And while the purple box had sat flat on the shelf, the red
box was propped up by the tiniest, most delicate golden feed I had ever seen.
I had to have it.
So, I did what any self respecting kid would do in such a
situation. I monkey climbed my way up to the top shelf, tucked the jewelry box
under my arm and monkeyed back down. It would have all been fine, except for my
not paying attention to the fact that the shelves were not actually connected
to the dresser, just sitting on top of them.
My speedy descent had knocked them off balance and no sooner
had my feet hit the ground than the shelves fell toward me. In a feat of speed
and strength unmatched in all the rest of my years, I dropped the jewelry box
and caught both sides of the dresser, preventing it from falling any further
than it had.
Of course, I completely lacked the upper body strength to
right the damn thing. So, there I stood, amid the wreckage. Trying not to shift
my feet lest I further massacre the plethora of Precious Moments figurines that
had all come crashing to the ground. And trying desperately to figure out if I
dropped the shelves was I fast and small enough to fit through the window in
the Little Mermaid tent set up
directly behind me.
I stood there under those shelves for what felt like an
eternity before my sister, who had apparently forgotten all about the jewelry
box game, finally wandered up. She looked at me with vague interest, as though
she was trying to figure out what game I was playing now and went back to her
search for crayons. I finally convinced her to go get mom and she slowly went
back downstairs and informed my mother I wanted her, somehow managing not to
mention the falling furniture debacle. I still assert this was all revenge for the
whole Sesame Street/Stitches Fiasco of ’91, but I digress.
My mother came to the bottom of the stairs and yelled up
that I was going to have to come down to talk to her as she had just started
folding laundry. Due to the effort I was putting into holding up the shelves, I
couldn’t yell, but I did manage to get out that I was slowly being crushed by
furniture. And up the stairs my mother flew, righting everything without even
donning a cape and tights.
Sure, I was shaken by the experience, but as I stood there
in my mother’s embrace, I remember one thought fleeting across my mind.
I had gotten the jewelry box.
It was at that moment, that I knew that I was just a touch
insane. And it is that mental mania that to this day has me favoring characters
who travel the road of high risk/high rewards.
Where’s the fun in playing it safe?
