MATTHEW BURNETTE

Staff Writer

Sometimes I have ideas in life that don’t turn out to be the greatest. I’m not too proud to admit that. Sometimes, though, those eventual bad ideas turn into great ones.

One of the most recent examples of that is my seemingly bright idea to go into a newly opened retail establishment in a neighboring town on the day of their grand opening.

Now, shopping enthusiasts might think that sounds like a great way to spend a day, but as a guy who doesn’t do particularly well in large crowds, particularly large crowds who leave very little room to breathe, it wasn’t a great experience.

Granted, I should have known, but I had been informed that there was a collectible there that I wanted to get my hands on.

Anyone who has been in the Times office in the last several months has undoubtedly seen my collection of toys displayed on my desk. It started out with a couple of items and has only grown.

There are items from just about every facet of pop culture that I enjoy. They may not be the most typical decorations for a public and professional work desk, but on those heavier days or in those moments where inspiration is lacking, it’s nice to have something to look at that brings me joy.

When I finally finished up at the aforementioned retail establishment, a successful yet strenuous mission full of sweat and the sound of my heart beating in my ears, I decided that I needed to find somewhere to relax.

Luckily, I knew just the place.

The same town happens to have a small vintage toy store that I had been in once before and had been meaning to return to, so I made the short drive over to Beamba’s Toys.

As I walked through the door, I could immediately feel the hairs on the back of my neck return to their natural position and my hands became slightly less fidgety.

I don’t know the owner, Ken Beam, that well, only having met him the other time I was in his store, but I learned during my first visit that we seemed to have the same sensibilities as far as the types of things we were into.

I found myself repeating the phrase “Oh, cool!” as I slowly made my around the store marveling at all of the toys that he had collected over the years, many of which I would have purchased.

On my second venture into the store, I was more so searching for some peace and not really looking to buy anything. I had just added one item to my collection.

As I made my way around marveling at the displayed gems from a bygone era, I found myself in front of a plastic bin full of smaller toys, the ones you would typically find in a kid’s meal from a fast-food restaurant.

They immediately piqued my interest.

In my opinion, I grew up in the golden age of kid’s meal toys. You walk into a fast-food establishment these days and half the time the toys are indiscernible characters that really have no appeal.

Of course, I am a 32-year-old guy who doesn’t really keep up with a lot of current kids shows and toys, so maybe I’m not exactly their target market.

But just like I would argue most people are, I’m the type of person that lives under the assumption that everything that came out when I was a kid is far superior to any other generation’s offerings.

While we did get our fair share of kid’s meals as a kid, I mostly remember those smaller toys from going to the thrift store as a kid.

They would always have plastic zipper bags (I think that’s the generic term for the ones you put a sandwich in) that were nearly packed full of a number of those same small toys that you could purchase for a dollar.

Finding myself now in a similar situation, digging through a bin of toys with a smile on my face, I started pulling these little blasts from the past, some of the exact same toys from childhood.

Plastic relics from movies and T.V. shows I adored (and still do).

With my heart now not only calmed down from my previous endeavor but fluttering from the nostalgia, I realized that I couldn’t leave the toys I rediscovered behind, so I brought them up to the counter and paid for them.

Reflecting on the day, it struck me how I left the house with the idea that I was going to a large retail outlet to try and add one new item to my collection but ended up with multiple, and while I like the one, the multiple struck a chord that was very much needed.

Sometimes ideas work out, and sometimes they don’t, but on very rare occasions, somehow the worst ones end up leading to the best.