Sitting by the Levy of Imagination

What was your favorite toy growing up?

I sure loved my James Bond Attache case, loaded with weapons, secret compartments, and coded messages.

I'll never forget my Cecil the Seasick Sea Serpent, a hand puppet with a pull string for random sayings like, "I'm coming, Beanie!"  Of course, mine was extra special because it malfunctioned with "Tastes like chicken" and said...something else.

Leading my toy brigade, however, has to be our toy showboat.  Was it mine?  Was it my sister's?  Was it a shared toy.  I don't remember, but I do know that I was mesmerized by it.  It had all the stuff to put on great shows.  The curtain would go up, and Tom Strait would light up.

Some shows were straightforward, as best as I could remember them.  But the best were the ones fired from the recesses of my fractured brain.  Heidi vs. The Cowardly Lion!  Pinocchio takes Cinderella to the Ball!

There were made up songs!  We're Off to See the Wizard Climb Every Mountain!  I Got No Strings Don't Look at my Hand!  Somewhere Over the Alps!  Well... these are just theoretical examples.  I never have been very good at remembering song lyrics, so I'm sure they were some mashed up messes.

For my sister and me, the showboat concept was not just theoretical.  A small town near us was famous for its summertime Showboat. Yes, the ol' Chesaning Showboat!

Come one!  Come all!  To the greatest show on water!

I don't know how often we went, but it was enough to inspire me, and make that toy showboat extra special!

Is it what inspires me to later take up theatre as my number one hobby?  I'm sure it was part of it.  I was an inveterate storyteller pretty much since birth, but this was an important outlet and inspiration for me. It gave me the tools to act AND make up my own stories.

Sadly, in searching for pictures of the Chesaning Showboat, I found out its time had come to an end.  Shows stopped in 2013, and in 2015, the boat was sold for $50 and dismantled.

The toy showboat has long since disappeared.  My sister and I lost interest, and my mother must have disposed of it somewhere along the line.

The showboat may be gone, but the memories are still there.  It would be nice whenever I have grandchildren, to find one of those old showboats, and share it with them.  Yeah, they'd find it very strange, but nevertheless, it will feel good to connect with the past and to fire up their imagination.

Who knows?  Maybe it will inspire a future Strait in their storytelling, and they'll get as much or more joy out of writing/acting/performing as I have!

Sit down at our make-believe levy, and marvel as the curtain to imagination rises.

It's Showboat Time!