Musings on Children's Toys in Adulthood
I don't think that toys, and in particular dolls: Legos, Polly Pocket, or in my case Playmobil—should be relegated to childhood exclusively. This isn't a political statement—I do still think that there are some necessary things to leave behind on the road to adulthood—but my Playmobil is not one of those. I do remember when that question first came up; around age 13, give or take a year, most of my friends had almost universally given it up, but I did not. I was acutely aware of this, and I think that the savior for many of my toys were twofold.
First, though less importantly, I built dioramas and stop-motion videos with them. I had little mats, backdrops, etc. and would stage scenes. Once I even entered into a diorama competition for Playmobil (I did not win) and I had a secret dream of arranging the moving displays for the toys in big stores, like the Toys R Us in Times Square, now closed. Dioramas were a more acceptable way to be imaginative as a teenager, because even if it was nerdy, it was not so childish.
The other factor was that I had a serious emotional attachment to them. Moreover, I wouldn't want to give them up anyway. Besides the fact that I still, now at 20 play as I did at age 6, between my parents' divorce, successive house-moves, and general confusions about identity, there was an element not only of escapism into these games, but also of consistency. I got my first Playmobil figure at 3-years-old and have been using and collecting since then; I struggle to think now of anything else I've done consistently in that same time. In periods of house-moves and downsizing, I gave away so much, and it was incredibly difficult. Partly there was also a financial consideration too; if I wanted ever to get all the sets back it would cost hundred or possibly into the thousands of dollars considering many of the sets were no longer in production, and that Playmobil tends to be expensive anyway, what with being made in Europe with an emphasis on environmentalism.
Indeed, I have always been pretty obsessive about totally invented things for them, like whose plastic sword belongs to whom, and who has allegiances to whom. I probably would be like that anyway, but I do like the consistency. The worlds have been pretty much the same throughout with a few exceptions when I tried (and failed) to introduce the idea of spells into it. In fact, I connect with each character so thoroughly that I could predict with some accuracy that when the characters I liked died, it meant I was probably sad or angry about something else, even if I didn't realize it before.
In that sense, there was an element of mindfulness to it. I don't think people believed that I wouldn't just decide what happens or who did what exactly, but I would genuinely try to let the figures act for themselves based on the personalities and skills I imagined each having. I could act out things I couldn't really verbalize. It's not as if this was therapy—probably most of the time it was just for enjoying a moment in time as with any other kind of entertainment—but even then, there were elements of military-strategy, diplomatic negotiations, and whatever else happens with little toy warriors. And I know that for the future, I do need to get rid of some, though never all. It's an issue of space, and also an issue of time when I'll have to worry more about jobs, and articles, and kids (BH), but I have and still will almost certainly have some sense of mourning when that time comes.
So, sure, I joined collectors groups (I even have the hat, official membership card, and specialty figures), but I would be more than content to just have my little games, and get lost for an hour or two every so often. In that sense, I think it has offered me something so many others may be looking for. It's not about growing up and moving beyond these things. It is about adapting these kinds of activities and imaginary spaces into the infinitely more complicated world of adulthood. Perhaps too, I can pass it down to my children, and they can develop connections of their own.
First, though less importantly, I built dioramas and stop-motion videos with them. I had little mats, backdrops, etc. and would stage scenes. Once I even entered into a diorama competition for Playmobil (I did not win) and I had a secret dream of arranging the moving displays for the toys in big stores, like the Toys R Us in Times Square, now closed. Dioramas were a more acceptable way to be imaginative as a teenager, because even if it was nerdy, it was not so childish.
The other factor was that I had a serious emotional attachment to them. Moreover, I wouldn't want to give them up anyway. Besides the fact that I still, now at 20 play as I did at age 6, between my parents' divorce, successive house-moves, and general confusions about identity, there was an element not only of escapism into these games, but also of consistency. I got my first Playmobil figure at 3-years-old and have been using and collecting since then; I struggle to think now of anything else I've done consistently in that same time. In periods of house-moves and downsizing, I gave away so much, and it was incredibly difficult. Partly there was also a financial consideration too; if I wanted ever to get all the sets back it would cost hundred or possibly into the thousands of dollars considering many of the sets were no longer in production, and that Playmobil tends to be expensive anyway, what with being made in Europe with an emphasis on environmentalism.
Indeed, I have always been pretty obsessive about totally invented things for them, like whose plastic sword belongs to whom, and who has allegiances to whom. I probably would be like that anyway, but I do like the consistency. The worlds have been pretty much the same throughout with a few exceptions when I tried (and failed) to introduce the idea of spells into it. In fact, I connect with each character so thoroughly that I could predict with some accuracy that when the characters I liked died, it meant I was probably sad or angry about something else, even if I didn't realize it before.
In that sense, there was an element of mindfulness to it. I don't think people believed that I wouldn't just decide what happens or who did what exactly, but I would genuinely try to let the figures act for themselves based on the personalities and skills I imagined each having. I could act out things I couldn't really verbalize. It's not as if this was therapy—probably most of the time it was just for enjoying a moment in time as with any other kind of entertainment—but even then, there were elements of military-strategy, diplomatic negotiations, and whatever else happens with little toy warriors. And I know that for the future, I do need to get rid of some, though never all. It's an issue of space, and also an issue of time when I'll have to worry more about jobs, and articles, and kids (BH), but I have and still will almost certainly have some sense of mourning when that time comes.
So, sure, I joined collectors groups (I even have the hat, official membership card, and specialty figures), but I would be more than content to just have my little games, and get lost for an hour or two every so often. In that sense, I think it has offered me something so many others may be looking for. It's not about growing up and moving beyond these things. It is about adapting these kinds of activities and imaginary spaces into the infinitely more complicated world of adulthood. Perhaps too, I can pass it down to my children, and they can develop connections of their own.
We always knew that your Playmobil was a big part of who you were and are -- a person with a vivid imagination and incredible perseverance. Those are exactly the sorts of traits once common in children (and adults) that are quickly vanishing in a world without that sort of play. Instead we have people who play pre-scripted games with outcomes that have, for the most part, already been decided by others. Those games do involve cooperation and the recall of many details, but there is a lot to be said for the sort of imaginative play that marked your childhood and later years. I'm glad that you still hold on to some of those figures and hope that you get to enjoy them again and again as you get older.
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