News

HMS Is Facing a Deficit. Under Trump, Some Fear It May Get Worse.

News

Cambridge Police Respond to Three Armed Robberies Over Holiday Weekend

News

What’s Next for Harvard’s Legacy of Slavery Initiative?

News

MassDOT Adds Unpopular Train Layover to Allston I-90 Project in Sudden Reversal

News

Denied Winter Campus Housing, International Students Scramble to Find Alternative Options

Cabbages and Kings

Toyland Trauma

By Laurence D. Savadove

Arrive in front of Jordan Marsh at 3:32 p.m. Many people watching wax Santa Claus-trying to paint "Santa's workshop" sign in window. Loudspeaker tells me I'd "better watch out." Man grabs me by the arm. "He' ya, Mister. This li'I doll'll dance for you just like she's dancing for me. Only a quawta. He' ya."

Ducked into doorway. Bump into sign. "New England's largest Toyland, This Way." Woman grabs me by the arm. Fat woman. "Oh, excuse me. I thought you were Forsythe. Have you seen a little boy...?" Hear air raid siren at left elbow. Turns out it's not air raid siren at all but little boy. Forsythe. Pick self off floor and get caught up in herd of stampeding gamins. We sweep through the Hopalong Cassidy Corral, Scout Hut, and emerge in a layer of purgatory which Dante, lucky fellow, never visited. Gamins disperse into scouting parties and disappear.

Floorwalker without a tie grabs me by the arm. "Did you bring those kids in here?" he growls. "You don't have a tie," I said. Floorwalker looks down, gasps, disappears.

Man with puppets on strings waltzing around behind counter, basking in awed glances of little girls. Stuffed clowns sail by over head, hanging from stuffed oranges. Mechanical elephant nine feet high waves trunk in front of my face. Little man with red face tooting "Jingle Bells" on plastic fife.

Move over to erector set counter. Gamins have congregated here. One salesgirl surrounded. "But what about the electro-dynamic turbo flow on the distributing generator head?" demanded one.

"Er, yes, yes, of course. Now, now boys, mustn't touch the ferris wheel, must we. There now, look out for that motor... What madame?" I took the reference with a shrug and started to ask about the latest in atom bomb kits. She shoved a microscope at me and raced down to the other end of the counter. Two of "my" boys were racing the mechanical cars head on.

Wandered into "New England's Largest Doll House." Doll behind counter was pouring orange juice down the mouth of one of the plastic dolls. "Then you just pull out this little pan and empty the doll, and she's ready for a refill." Made a hasty exit to the toy trains department.

Was amazed. Monster layout with yards of track and trains. Little engine scooted by and puffed smoke in my face. Tooted whistle and disappeared into tunnel. Came out half a block away and dashed over bridge above the 20th Century Limited that was rounding the bend below. Signals blinked, tracks switched, water tower bubbled, and Limited pulled up to station. Little cart wheels out. On other track, 19th Century Limited whips by. Forgets to stop for log loader which spills logs onto track. Old 19th backs up. Little man at control panel in corner narrowly averts tragedy by switching Old 19th onto another track. The 20th starts up. Goes at full gallup toward Old 19th. Tension is high. Control man pushes button and 20th takes first right turn, missing Old 19th by inches. Crowd breathes sigh of relief. Gamins boo, suddenly spot me. I duck behind peppermint striped door. Shapely young thing almost dressed in red asks me sweetly if I want to see Santa Claus. Gamins cheer from doorway. Little girl cries. I smile weakly.

Army of salesgirls, the dinner shift, marches by, glaring at kids. Floorwalker with tie glares at me. Woman grabs my arm. "Come along, Forsythe." I glare at Forsythe. Forsythe imitates fire siren. Escalator marked "Down" appears at my left elbow.

Emerge from Jordan Marsh 6:42 p.m. Enter Stillman 7:29 p.m. for treatment on bruised arm.

Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.

Tags