Wednesday, 9 April 2014


Marx Yogi Bear toy.  He'll be with me 'til I croak

As I sit in my cavernous Kid-Cave, luxuriating in all my tremendous treasures - toys, books, comics, records, etc. - I sometimes wonder what will happen to them all when I'm no longer around to cherish and protect them.  I'd like to think I'll have established a museum of childhood of the 1960s & '70s by then, but if I were to drop off the twig tomorrow, they could end up in a skip or charity shop - and, to be perfectly truthful, I'm uncertain as to which of these options is the greater evil.

When LEWIS CARROLL (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, to give him his real name) died, his possessions were auctioned off, leading one of his friends, Frederick York Powell, to pen the following poem in despair at how his comrade's beloved belongings were disposed of.

At a Certain Auction...

                           Poor playthings of the man that's gone,
                           Surely we would not have them thrown,
                           Like wreckage on a barren strand,
                           The prey of every greedy hand.

                            Fast ride the dead!  Perhaps 'tis well!
                            He shall not know, what none would tell,
                            That gambling salesmen bargain'd o'er
                            The books he read, the clothes he wore,

                            The desk he stood at day by day
                            In patient toil or earnest play,
                            The pictures that he loved to see,
                            Faint echoes of his fantasy.

                            He shall not know.  And yet, and yet,
                            One would not quite so soon forget
                            The dead man's whims, or let gain riot
                            Among the toys he loved in quiet:

                            Better by far the Northman's pyre,
                            That burnt in one sky-soaring fire
                            The man with all he held most dear.
                            'He that hath ears, now let him hear.'

So I suppose that's another option open to me - just get everything cremated with me, but it's not one I'm too keen on.  I'd like my treasures to survive my passing, and, as long as I knew they would be looked after, other people would get to see and enjoy them as I once did.  And if they knew that all these wonderful things had once belonged to me, that would be the icing on the cake.

Ah, I can see it now.  The Kid Robson Museum of Childhood.  (No children permitted, of course.  They'd only break something.)

However, here's a question for all of you:  What would you like to happen to your most treasured material possessions when you're pushing up the daises?  Why not share your hopes with your fellow Criv-ites in the comments section.  And no cheating - none of that "I don't care, I'll be dead!" cop-out nonsense. 


Anonymous said...

After my parents deaths I tried to find a good home for as much of their possessions as I could but an awful lot had to be thrown away which was really painful to do and I rather resented the fact that they had so much junk that was left to me to dispose of. As for me, I try not to acquire unnecessary stuff and I only keep things that I really, really need so I'm hoping most of my things might have use to somebody else,I don't mind them going to a charity shop. And I've got to say it,Kid, even though you said not to - I'll be dead so I don't really care. What happens after I've departed this fleeting existence is increasingly unimportant to me as I get older. The way things are going I wouldn't want to be around in a few decades anyway as the world's going to hell in a handcart with all the climate change, overpopulation and environmental destruction. What happened to all the flying cars and cities on the moon that we were promised?

moonmando said...

The only thing of value I would like to leave behind that I hope would be treasured and held in high esteem, would be my reputation as a good and honest man and to be thought kindly of by my family and friends.Possessions and all the other accoutrements we gather throughout our lives will needless turn to dust and fade just as the light dims at the end of the day....
Oh, and if I find my son has put my guitars on ebay when I've popped my clogs, be sure, I'll come back and haunt him.

Kid said...

Jack Kirby stole them all, CJ, and used them as models for his futuristic artwork.


Right, Moony - 'fess up! Whose reputation as a good and honest man did you steal, you thieving little b*st*rd?! You never had it the last time I saw you.

As for your guitars, I think your missus will have them on eBay long before your boy ever sees 'em. Hee hee.

moonmando said...

You're not wrong there kid, but she was top of my haunt list anyway. Hee, hee, or rather .."Oh f@#k" if she reads this.Then my haunting career will come sooner rather than later...

TwoHeadedBoy said...

The easiest answer to this is hoping that my death will be one caused by a house fire while I'm asleep, then no-one will have to worry about all my stuff.

On the other hand, if the stuff DOES outlive me... I'm looking at it and wondering if anyone would even WANT any of it! There's a charity shop near me and I gave them a few things when they opened up (doubles of my own things, naturally), two years later and those items are still there.

Rare VHS tapes, Viz imitations, obscure Korean video games, lead-paint-coated cheap dinosaur toys - who'd seriously want ANY of this stuff? It'd best be left to someone who knows/knew me well to eBay it all, as there's certainly no-one local who'd want it.

Kid said...

There'll be someone somewhere who'd like it, TSB - it's matching them up that's often the problem.

tongalad said...

I seriously believe you should bequeath your collection to a museum (e.g Museum of Childhood in Edinburgh) as the amount of diverse items in it are well worth seeing. It would be a crying shame for them to end up in a council skip upon your passing.

Kid said...

It would also be a crying shame for most of my items to probably lie neglected in storage in the vaults of a museum, TGL. (Although I suppose they'd at least survive that way.) I'd rather set up my own place, but it might never happen.

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