Toyland
Heaven
memoir by Greg Larson
The
1962 Fall edition of the Sears and Roebuck catalog seemed to weigh a ton. I
held it close to my chest, then threw it down in front of me on the sleek sofa,
spread out my legs behind me, and began flipping the pages, one by one. The
tinsel on the Christmas tree in front of the big picture window glistened in
the sunshine. It was my afternoon ritual, part daydream journey into fantasy
Christmas mornings and part mission to select important things to put on my
list for Santa. Wasn’t the meaning of Christmas to seek out the favorite toys
to get on Christmas morning, and then blissfully play hour after hour without
thinking about school?
In
the electric train section I looked at all the sepia-toned images of every
train imaginable, from giant locomotives roaring across trestle bridges in the
forest, to stubby-looking switch engines working the freight yards of big
cities. The Great Northern Railway locomotive was my favorite, hauling Mesabi
iron ore through tunnels in the birch forests. I closed my eyes and pictured
small towns with wooden train stations and goose-necked lamps along the platform,
with the countryside full of mirror-surfaced lakes and snow-capped mountains
beyond.
The
anticipation of Christmas was almost unbearable, but Christmas Eve finally came
and we all gathered around the tree to take turns reading parts of the real
Christmas story from the Bible. After our fill of sugar cookies and hot
chocolate, we grabbed a flashlight and a wristwatch to keep under the bed
covers. Mom had a rule: nobody gets up before 6:00 AM. The night went on
forever. My brothers and I tossed and turned, checking the watch every ten
minutes.
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| Christmas Eve 1962 - Brothers Tim, Dan, & Greg |
There
it was! Low-hanging tinsel fluttered as a Lionel train rolled on a track set up
in front of the tree. Wow! New train cars; a Sunoco tank car, a double-decker
car full of automobiles, and a boxcar with a Baby Ruth trademark on it. The
camera lights, the train whirring along the track, and our yelps as we explored
the room made for a heady experience and a great Christmas memory. Santa (aka
Dad) was a smart cookie. He had not disappointed us.
Immediately,
Dad began to talk of a project for the rec-room he had built in the garage. He
wanted to build us a train table that would fold up into the wall. My older
brother started planning a track layout that would fill a four-foot by eight-foot table top.
Over
the next few days we watched Dad assemble the plywood table. At times, he allowed
us to hold a piece of lumber when he ran it through the power table saw, or
sweep the sawdust and pick up the wood scraps. He installed a big piano hinge
along the table edge and wall box, and added folding legs for the outer corners
of the table.
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| Brother Dan installing track |
After
a lot of discussion between my Dad and brother, they began to attach the
trestle pylons and pieces of track to the table. My brother consulted with his
friend across the street to determine how to maximize the track. Only one piece
of track had to be cut and spliced.
In
no time at all we had our Katy switch engine pulling train cars along the
track. On our nearby blackboard, I created lists of train cars, and we spent
hours rearranging the cars, using the sidetracks to create new trains to pull.
We took turns controlling the train from the transformer, which became warm to
the touch. Occasionally, we were able to run two trains at the same time, but
that put our small transformer to its limit. On the busy days with the train,
the room became warm and the engines emitted the fragrance of ionized electrons
and three-in-one oil.
Before
the end of the Christmas holiday, we had daily visits from our friends bringing
their favorite Lionel engines and cars to run on the tracks. My friend Mike
brought his silver Santa Fe engine and we had two trains running at full speed.
I remember thinking it was the best Christmas ever for an eleven-year-old boy
in Kansas.
