Finding Dory (A Story Post)

I guess the primary theme of this post is to demonstrate how my keychain collecting obsession can sometimes override my common sense. This story begins at the Columbus Flea Market in New Jersey. My father and I had driven there early one morning, intending to spend a good chunk of the day browsing the stalls and tables. I think it was around mid-afternoon when I started running low on cash. But as luck would have it, the woman at the next table was selling a variety of Disney themed items, including some Disney collectable pins.

For anyone who doesn’t know, pin trading is a popular pastime at the Disney theme parks. The pins are sold exclusively through Disney, or you can trade with park employees or other park guests for both new and previously released pins. The pins can also be purchased on the secondhand market, sometimes at a considerable markup depending on the rarity and desirability of the pin.

I do love all things Disney, and over time I’ve managed to build up a small collection of Disney pins from yard sales and thrift stores. The woman at the flea market had separated her pins by asking price, and I had just enough cash left on me to purchase one pin from the lowest price bracket. I quickly zeroed in on an Oswald The Lucky Rabbit pin.

Oswald was an animated character created by Walt Disney for Universal Studios in the 1920s. The Walt Disney Company arranged to buy back the rights to Oswald in 2006. I’d actually wanted an Oswald pin for my collection for a while, so buying this pin should’ve been the obvious decision for me. However, before I paid for my purchase, I made the mistake of checking the rest of the table, to see if the seller had anything I wanted more. That’s when I saw a previously ‘blind bagged’ Dory keychain from Pixar’s Finding Nemo film. Blind bag toys had become quite popular, and so were being sold in a wide variety of stores across the country. Of course, the problem with blind bags is that you’re not supposed to know which toy in a series you’re getting until you open it. Dory specifically was from “Series 5” of the “Disney Figural Keyring” line by Monogram International Inc.

So, on the one hand I had the Oswald pin, sold exclusively through Disney and their theme parks. While on the other hand I had the ‘blind bag’ Dory keychain, most likely sold at just about any retail store that featured toys. As you can see, Dory came home with me. I guess I decided that the convenience of knowing which blind bag item I was getting, without having to pay online shipping costs, was worth losing out on the pin. Sometimes I feel like kicking myself for not getting the pin instead. But then I look at Dory’s sweet face and decide that it was money well spent. Besides, Finding Nemo is my favorite Pixar film.

Signed, Treesa

Sesame Place Souvenir Keychains (A Story Post)

 Before my in person meet-up with keychain collecting, email pen pal Heathersmoo in July of 2022, which I previously wrote about on this blog, I’d only ever been to Sesame Place once in my life. Though, no doubt like countless other children of my generation, I was practically raised on PBS, Sesame Street and Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood in particular. I made my first ever visit to Sesame Place on a Girl Scout trip, and though my memories of the excursion are pretty hazy, there’s one detail that still stands out in my mind. I was standing on the edge of the ball pit, preparing to jump in, when the employee in charge ordered me to take off my shoes first. Being a sensitive child, I thought the employee was angry and was yelling at me, and I got scared. Crying, I ran back to my dad, who was acting as my chaperone on the trip. I didn’t tell him what was wrong however. I guess I was afraid that he would be mad at me too, if I told him that the person in charge of the ball pit was angry at me. I did refuse to go back to the ball pit though. Since that’s my clearest memory from the trip, I’m guessing the rest of the day wasn’t all that memorable in comparison.

I didn’t get any keychains on that particular outing. I was still rather young at the time, and I don’t think I was actively collecting yet.

You may therefore be wondering how I ended up with several Sesame Place keychains in my collection, especially since that time I went in my childhood was so traumatic for me. I think I bought the first one in an attempt to let go of the memory and put the experience behind me. I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I’d gotten over it. I bought the second keychain, I believe, because I’d forgotten that I’d already picked up a Sesame Place keychain for my collection.

As for the Sesame Place nail clippers keychain, I bought that at a flea market because I was amused by what I saw as an odd combination of elements. Sesame Place is a locale typically associated with young children, while nail clippers are more commonly perceived as something for adults. So to be honest, I’m not really sure why this keychain exists. I don’t know what the attached little keys were originally for either. They just came with the keychain.

Anyway, as far as Sesame Place goes, I guess this Story Post sort of serves to close a chapter for me. Given the cost of park tickets, and the fact that there are far fewer attractions at Sesame Place that can accommodate older guests (unlike at the Disney theme parks), I'm not planning on revisiting by myself anytime soon. Even though I love theme park gift shops with exclusive, licensed merchandise more than I probably should.

Signed, Treesa

Button Canister Keychain (A Story Post)

When I first found this keychain years ago at a consignment shop, there was a baseball card inside of it. I gave the card to my cousin S.V. after my dad bought the keychain for me. At the time, I think I was drawn to this keychain because of its potential. In my young mind, the possibilities of what I could put inside it seemed endless.

The reason I decided to fill it with buttons had a lot to do with my mother. Mom likes to sew, and when me and my siblings were kids there were a lot more brick and morter stores that sold fabric and sewing notions than there are today. There was one store I remember in particular because it had a large bin of loose buttons that were sold by the scoop. It was a small store, and my mom would often let us kids stand there and pick through the buttons while she did her shopping. Sometimes she'd even let us fill a scoop with buttons to buy and bring home. All of Mom's spare buttons were stored in empty cookie tins under her bed, and every now and then she'd pull out a tin and let us empty it out onto her bed so we could run our fingers through the buttons.

The buttons inside this keychain were all taken from my mom's stash, with her permission. Now every time I look at it, I remember the thrill I felt as a child grabbing handfuls of buttons and letting them fall through my fingers. I like to think that my fascination with Mom's button tins was similar to the fascination that most young kids have with ball pits. Plunging my hands into a box of buttons somewhat parallels jumping into a ball pit, at least in my mind.

Signed, Treesa