Misfit Toys Unite

It’s been a weird couple of days—being alone in the apartment and just slumming around and doing nothing and quite well. Each Christmas for the past 6 years I have spent it away from my family for various reasons such as work, money or just because. People find this odd, that I don’t make the effort to fly back East, to have my family fly out or just fly home. I have never really been a huge fan of Christmas—don’t get me wrong, I like presents and parties, giving cool gifts and surprising people. But with my mom’s collection of husbands and in-laws I never felt like I belonged in anyone place. My birth dad’s family wasn’t really around, my dad’s family was very religious and of the mindset that kids don’t matter much less the kids of another man. Then there was my step dad’s family that didn’t know how to handle kids at all since most were not born yet or much older than us. And my mom’s family wasn’t all that great either—my grandparents were divorced and not speaking to each other so combined with the tension between my mom and grandfather about me of all things—even as a toddler I could feel the drama. The only place I ever felt I belonged was at my Great Uncle Bob’s house—the large Haworth brood in full effect without my grandfather to ruin it. It was show tunes and booze, slot machine and a huge mansion to hide in. But regardless of where we were, the best part of each holiday was the Christmas specials. My brother and I would watch each of them religiously regardless of whether we liked them or not and we each had our favorite. My brother loved the ‘Star Wars’ Christmas special and I was fond of all the clay-mation specials. But I had one favorite part of fall. I loved all the misfits toys on the Island of Misfits Toys—the dolly with out a nose, the broken jack-in-the-box, the square wheeled train and of course the polka dot elephant. I loved the fact that all the unwanted, broken toys had a home of their own—a place that they belonged because even then I knew that I was one of them. A misfit. The only part of the special that disturbed me was when they were fixed and brought to the deserving children of the world. I knew back then I didn’t want to be fixed or that I even needed to be. My mother used to tell me how I cried as a toddler when the toys were gone. I don’t remember it but it wouldn’t be surprising. I guess where I am going with this is that I still feel that way today. I don’t go home because I like to be here—on my island of misfit toys. I like feeling like I don’t have to make myself belong or belong to someone else to have worth. That while going home isn’t the end of the world—it’s not somewhere I need to be to feel special. I’m proud of that about myself and if that makes me a misfit—so be it.