COLUMN: The Difference of Toys ‘R’ Us’s
When I was in grade school my parents would get me rewards for good report cards: my preference was almost always Lego sets or video games.
(The ratio of the former to the latter shifted significantly through the years.)
When I went with my mom, we’d usually go east to the Toys “R” Us in Utica. When I went with my step-dad, we’d usually go west to the Toys ”R” Us in Pontiac. (With my dad, the GameStop down the road near downtown Rochester did just fine.)
That was the only time I ever saw downtown Pontiac. The boarded up windows and empty high-rises always piqued my suburban sensibilities as we drove there, but on the way back I was too preoccupied with my new swag to peer out on the dreams deferred.
My interest probably came more from that colonialist fascination with urban decay which compels us rich kids to take moody pictures of broken down factories and train stations than real empathy for the current of life which used to run through them.
I remember wondering why we always went through the city itself, with its endless stop lights, when the store was on the other side by a good margin.
I don’t know if my step-dad stuck to a route straight through the heart of Pontiac on purpose, but I hope he did.
A lot of the kids I saw as I looked out from high up in his green Ford F-150 would have been glad just to attend schools that gave report cards representing an education worthy of pride. Their dropout rates could pass for my school district’s graduation figures.
I didn’t work half as hard for my second Lego X-Wing as some of those kids did just to stay in a system that couldn’t afford enough to give a crap about them.
It wasn’t fair, but I can’t detest myself too much for the youthful indifference. I was just a stupid kid, and I couldn’t appreciate what my middle-class parents scraped together through years of work, scrimping, and saving.
But the further I go out into the real world, where high marks rarely get us rewards greater than continued employment, the more I see I was, and still am, a lucky bastard. I earned very little of what I have now.
Some day, I hope to be worth it.
