A Season of Stuff is a writing challenge that I will be doing for the length of Spring 2016. The plan – to pick some object from within my personal possessions each day and write about it – its history, its significance, etc. Come on in – check out my stuff.
I don’t 100% remember the backstory of this guy. He used to have a body (more on that later) and he was a boxing puppet (and if you believe the description on that link, he doubles as an Amish puppet or an Abraham Lincoln puppet, tho’ the clothes really seal the deal for Amish).
I’m 95% certain that our friend Ariana bought it and either 1) gave it to me and Eric the Red as a joint gift, though at the time Eric and I weren’t living together, so not sure how we were to share this gift, or 2) she gave it to Eric as a gift who later bestowed the gift onto me. I’m sure Ariana got it for us because Eric looked Amish (well, his beard did anyway) and because I grew up in Eastern PA among the Mennonites (who are a step away from the Amish) and the Quakers (who ARE NOT Amish and are really not in any way associated with the Amish in any real way, but, you know, they’re both “plain folk”, so they get tossed together). We would give her a hard time about her Iranian/Persian heritage and she would toss it back at us about our Germanic heritage. Love that woman. She can bust balls with the best of ’em.
Fast-forward a few years and our friend Charissa would hang out our place frequently and would bring her son Jaden. We knew Charissa through the local messageboard (you know which one i’m talking about) and she did the photography at our wedding. Emma and Charissa would eventually form a band together and practice at our house. Anyway, one day Jaden was hanging out and playing with the Amish guy and *crack* Amish guy’s right arm got broken. Not sure how it happened and Jaden was like 6 or 7 at the time so no big deal, can’t get mad, shit happens.
Tried fixing his gimpy arm but it wasn’t working. It seemed weird to keep a busted, floppy-armed puppet around the house. Somehow it seemed less weird to pop his head off the body and just keep a small Amish man’s head hanging around. So *pop* off the head and toss the body; leave his head perched atop the filing cabinet in my workshop where he can silently judge my work ethic, but he can no longer challenge me to a fight.