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Hi, I’m Larry Lion.  I was a Christmas gift way back in 1962.  I sat under the Christmas tree in a livingroom of a small house, waiting for the morning to come.  I’d been purchased in the toy department, but my new owner would believe that Santa Claus had brought me down the chimney (even though this house had no chimney).

My owner was a shy, small blonde girl, all of 3 years old.  There was such joy on her face when she saw me waiting for her.  She giggled so hard when I said, “I’m ferocious, aren’t I?”  I think she got a doll or two that year, too.  They have faded from memory, and they did not last as long as I have.

The little blonde girl had grown into a woman with brown hair as the years went on.  I still sat on a shelf in her bedroom, watching over her and listening to the loud music she played on her record player.  I was happy.

When I was 27, the woman got married.  She packed up her things, and she moved away.  The woman’s mother still lived in the small house.  I sat in the attic bedroom year after year, watching dust gather in the corners of the unused bedroom.  Winters were cold, and summers were hot.  The girl’s mother closed the heat register to the unused bedroom.  She used the space for storage sometimes, and I watched her come and go as she moved things around.

One day the house became very still and silent.  I would find out that the woman’s mother was sick and in the hospital.  Not long after that, the woman came back!  She was sad as she gathered things up in her old bedroom.  She sifted through the toys and items that had been left behind when she married.  Imagine my joy when she picked me up and wiped the dust and dirt off of me!


Today I live at the woman’s house.  I am a little dusty and worn, but I still talk.  I sit on a bookshelf at the end of her hall, and I watch the woman, her husband and her two sons. I am 52 years old, and I’ve been with the woman for 36 of those 52 years.  The other 16 years were spent in her old bedroom, waiting for her to come get me.  I am glad she did.