The World of a Child

 Have you spent an afternoon lately with small children, perhaps your grandkids or nieces and nephews? Don't you come away from that time exhausted, yet feeling younger and remembering what it was like to pretend, to wish, to dream, to believe in the unbelievable?

One day, when she was younger, my niece Elena wanted an inexpensive pair of fairy wings in a dollar store. On the ride back home she said, "Auntie Kar, there's a little glitter on your seat." When we got out, not only did she have glitter on her face and hair, but the back seat of my car sparkled and glittered as well. And my heart sparkled too.

I, too, remember what it was like when I was young being a glitter princess; loving all things sparkly and pretty. For I was a girly girl type; a child who loved make believe, pretend, and lands faraway. My mom used to call me a pack rat stating that she always found glittery items in my drawers and in my room. I hoarded these pieces as if they were magical. And they were.

Our beautiful, innocent children hold the key to simplicity and joy. After a few hours playing "school" with my other niece, Elizabeth, I felt smarter and ready for a college degree. It didn't matter that it had been years since I'd been to school. Elizabeth was a tough teacher and she didn't tolerate any misbehavior in her "class." So I sat as a model student and learned all that I could from her. What she didn't realize is that I was learning. The lesson was one of sweetness, simplicity, and patience. The lesson wasn't something I could glean from a book, and I could only get from truly being in the moment with her.

Our world is full of cynicism, intolerance, and anger. News media and social media blast so much anti-everything campaigns that I want to run away for a while. Isn't it refreshing that once a week or so, to run away with two little girls who hold my heart with their simple innocence? I can come away from that time a much "better me."

How a Childhood Obsession Encourages Others

 

     None of us ever dreamed that an obsession from my thirty-two-year-old son’s youth would end up saving lives. He’s not a firefighter or policeman. He’s not a surgeon or EMT. What is it about his passion for playing claw machines that led to helping others?

     Ever since he was about four, my shy son Matt fell in love with being filmed by a video camera. His dad would record fun moments spent with he and his brother, and little Matt could watch himself on the television screen for hours. When they began spending time in arcades, their father taught them how to play a crane game also known as claw machines. Matt couldn’t believe that you won an actual prize—usually some sort of stuffed animal—if you played well enough. With their wins recorded for posterity, the boys and their dad bonded over watching their moments of victory captured on film.

     To my dismay, however, as he got older, Matt started getting really good at these games. We had boxes and bags filled to the brim with stuffed animals and small prizes spilling out of them that we packed in our attic and all available spaces. To Matt, they were like trophies of his special wins. It became difficult for him to part with them. To a mom, they were unnecessary clutter.

      I watched Matt become a little more shy and withdrawn as he headed into his early teen years. He didn’t make friends easily, and one day he came home from school and told me that he felt invisible. None of the kids seemed to pay any attention to him. He felt like he was always in the background. My heart broke when he added, “Mom, what am I good at?”

     I panicked at that moment. God, please help me give him the right answer. What is he good at? He didn’t care for sports or music. All he really loved was arcades and playing those goofy claw machines. “You’ll find out when you are a little older, honey,” I said, hoping this would be sufficient.

     At seventeen, Matt got his first job and began saving up for a dream of his—to own an actual claw machine! The day it was delivered, my son began quickly learning the ins and outs of the workings and mechanisms. He found ways to program it and decided to film himself talking about his journey to the claw machine.

     A few years later, Matt decided to put the videos he made onto YouTube. It might be fun to see if anyone actually watched his series which he called—of course—“Journey to the Claw Machine.” To his surprise, he began to receive comments and likes from people everywhere. It seemed that his new “fans” were just like him—all ages with a passion for winning prizes from an arcade game!

     As time passed, Matt grew to over a million followers on his YouTube account. He became partnered with them, and decided to do this for a living. He added in other arcade games and even miniature golf with friends and the videos quickly took off.

     In about 2013, a young girl reached out to Matt in a personal letter. She told him how much she loved his silly style of arcade adventures. She was his biggest fan, she said, and wanted to meet him one day. She told him that she had been a “cutter” and also had thought on several occasions of taking her life. Finding Matt was as if someone threw a life preserver to her to hang onto and find positivity. After she met him at a fan meet and greet, she made her own video: “I was on the brink of suicide. Whenever I was down, his videos gave me a sense of comfort. Just knowing he was out there. Not only is he talented, but he has a huge heart. He reminds me there is more to life than what stresses me out. And whatever I’m going through, it gets better.”

     Matt knew something about depression. There were relatives in our family who were clinically depressed. There seemed to be no escaping the blues. He’d had his own times of overwhelming sadness, darkness, and insecurity. He understood where this girl was coming from, and then others began reaching out to him as well.

     Matt, you’re the reason I can handle another day . . . Matt, if it wasn’t for watching your videos, I don’t know if I would still be here. You gave me a reason to live . . .

     During the pandemic year, Matt once again struggled with his own issues. He recently wrote on his page: “It’s been a crazy year and still continues to be kind of crazy. I just wanted to post this and say that if you are feeling down, or not yourself, then you are not alone. It’s ok to feel this way and take some time to care for your mental health. I’ve taken a little time today myself to reflect and watch some older videos and I got emotional, not gonna lie, because there’s been plenty of days in the recent months where I haven’t felt like my true self, like I did years back in those videos. I always try and put my heart, soul, and passion into every video I do for you guys and I apologize if there’s times where I haven’t seemed like myself lately. I’m not ashamed sharing this—we’re all human and we have struggles, even people that don’t seem like they do. I always try to be real with everyone. More importantly, if I can help people going through similar struggles to help them realize they aren’t alone, then I feel like I’m doing something good for others and using my platform for something positive. Thanks for understanding everyone. Matt”    

     One of the responses he received was this: “About two years ago, I was in a very dark place. I was on the verge of taking my own life. I hate to think about it. I hated myself. I hated what I did. I hated everything. Nothing was fun. Everything was just meshed together in dark disarray. Then I found you. Your videos. I saw this grown man just having the time of his life. The way you carried yourself. How silly you could be and just simply not care. Envious, is the best word I could describe, but you showed me that I can truly be myself. I can have fun and enjoy myself. So I went to the arcade. I felt awkward. Weird. But then I hit a jackpot and it was like all my emotions just leaped out of me. I was going crazy and nobody seemed to even watch. In that moment my life was saved. I’m not trying to sound philosophical or anything. I’m just saying that you can truly find happiness in the little things. Now I go to the arcade regularly with my little brother. I am I a good place and you are a reason why, so thank you Matt.” 

     To answer your old question, son, I think we found something you are really good at. You are certainly not “invisible” any longer. You are seen by over a million viewers! What you have is a God-given gift. May He continue to bless your journey as you encourage others.

     On a side note, the young girl from a few years ago informed us that she recently became an EMT.

 

      Matt gives away a lot of his wins, or sometimes he specifically wins something for others. This makes my heart happy:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ix4mdXqv_BI&list=UUMe8Y3zO7_la3uHaWR3OVrg&index=5

Nostalgic, Creepy, and Wonderful (A Mother's Day Tale)

As always, the last turn on the winding country road as the top of the old, wooden roller coaster peeks out from the trees, gives my stomach a jolt of excitement. I'll never forget when I was a little girl, how the sight of that coaster, the sound of it whooshing and whomping along the track, and the laughter and thrill screams from countless people who rode it, alerted me to the fact that our family had just arrived at Conneaut Lake Park. And just as it had many times before, the coaster didn't fail to disappoint.

 My son and I put our heads together this year for a Mother's Day jaunt. Not the usual type of mother/son duo, we enjoy things of a more eclectic nature. Last year Matt took me to haunted Hillview Manor for a daytime ghost tour. It was a wonderful old building with incredible architecture and the feel of ghostly happenings in many of its crumbling corners. How could we top a trip of that nature?

We arrived at Conneaut Park yesterday as the rain began clearing. Though the park hasn't opened for the season just yet, we were permitted to walk along its paths, reliving the feel of a bygone era and our own youth. We parked at Hotel Conneaut since we had reservations a little later for the Mother's Day brunch.

With both of our camera's in hand, we headed off into the heart of the park. I had been watching several of the Facebook pages that had to do with this incredible place. The Devil's Den, a favorite dark ride of ours, seemed to have a wonderful guy as its operator/caregiver. For you see, if you have a true love of all things historical to do with an amusement park, you become its caregiver of a sort.

"Devil's Den Tom" is appropriately named. A fun, approachable fellow, whose knowledge of his ride and history of many of the others is above what we expected.

Matt and I settled in for many tales that Tom told us of his years of upkeep on the Den. He also is a certified ride inspector, so he is aware of safety issues and history of many of the rides throughout the park. We received one of the most awesome gifts from Tom, as he toured us through the Devil's Den in walk-through fashion. Never before had either Matt or I had the chance to go through a ride with a true first eye view of what goes on behind the scenes. It was a dream come true for both of us--and a way to feel more connected to a beloved place that has been a part of our family for many years.

Just standing outside the old dark ride, the scent of motor grease and old wood rises on the slight breeze. If you close your eyes, it takes you back to childhood, to school picnics, to simpler times. You remember your parents and their love; you remember the sense of belonging. You remember small vacation trips that were some of the best of your life. You picture the clack, clack, clack of the cars as they begin the journey through the doors of the old spook house, awaiting whatever ghouls and ghosties are ready to dole out at any moment. If you rode with a parent when you were young, chances are that they held onto you tightly showing you that there was nothing to fear. It was all good clean fun.

A little later, after a sumptuous meal, Matt and I strolled through the remainder of the park at our leisure. The silence in Kiddie Land seems alive with what awaits in the new season. Upon searching in nearby woods, I found the beginning and ending of an old jungle cruise ride--one I hadn't seen in years. A rickety bridge stretched over mossy water; the now defunct station where we once stood to board the pontoon boat that would take you around scores of natives and wild animals was abandoned and off-limits.

The carousel stood boarded up nearby. No way to see the lovely stallions, stately lions, tigers and bears! (Oh my!) But when we walked around the back of the building, a small loose board stood slightly ajar. I peered into the darkness and called Matt over. Like something out of "Mr. Dark's carnival," we could see the ghostly outlines of the carousel beasts. No music, not the stir of a breeze or dried leaf. But the feeling of observing this was something magical. For it felt as if we stumbled upon a secret--one only we were privy to at this moment.

Other parts of the park lie in wait for the amazing volunteers that will sweep through as they finish getting it ready for another season. Though I know we will return once it's opened, I found that this day of reliving precious memories and moments with nobody else present, helped me to truly treasure a unique place that my parents loved, my brother loved, I loved, and my son loved.

Here's to you Conneaut Lake Park to many more years for new families and old to walk through your midway, to enjoy the treasure of family time and make memories of their own.

 Park sign near the hotel. All painted and ready for a new season.

 Wonderful old kiddie land auto ride. I'm sure they are the same ones I rode as a child!

 The awesome dark ride! So many other parks have gotten rid of theirs.

 Matt might be standing around a little longer waiting for the ride to open.

 The exit platform to the Jungle Cruise ride from many, many years ago. So cool.

 I've never seen this little treasure. The original bridge to the Jungle Cruise ride. Oh how our family loved this one back in the day!

 How cool is this? Though I'd never walk across, it just screams of another era. Oh the stories a bridge could tell.

Part of the park near miniature golf.

Hotel Conneaut in its grand splendor! Hoping for many more years at this glorious historical place.

Thank you, son, for one of the most memorable Mother's Days ever!

Devil's Den Facebook page: /https://www.facebook.com/CLPDevilsDen/

The park's Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/SaveConneautLakePark/