Who would have thought that a sparking plastic ray gun could hold so many childhood memories—and one day become a massive piece of artwork?
I remember playing with these in Grandma and Grandpa Carter's basement. We'd build cardboard-box forts and turn our ray guns into swords whenever the evil opponent—usually my brother—stormed the fortress.
Pull the trigger and red sparks shot from the plastic nozzle, lighting up the basement. To us, we weren't five kids playing downstairs. We were on a spaceship defending ourselves from invading aliens.
It's only with time that I understand something else about those days.
My parents were raising five kids and going through a difficult period in their marriage. Grandma and Grandpa would take us for a few days, giving Mom and Dad time alone to try to reconnect. We didn't know any of that. We were downstairs fighting aliens.
In a way, this little ray gun did more than protect our cardboard fortress.
It protected us from seeing what was happening in our family at the time.
Who would have thought that a sparking plastic ray gun could hold so many childhood memories—and one day become a massive piece of artwork?
I remember playing with these in Grandma and Grandpa Carter's basement. We'd build cardboard-box forts and turn our ray guns into swords whenever the evil opponent—usually my brother—stormed the fortress.
Pull the trigger and red sparks shot from the plastic nozzle, lighting up the basement. To us, we weren't five kids playing downstairs. We were on a spaceship defending ourselves from invading aliens.
It's only with time that I understand something else about those days.
My parents were raising five kids and going through a difficult period in their marriage. Grandma and Grandpa would take us for a few days, giving Mom and Dad time alone to try to reconnect. We didn't know any of that. We were downstairs fighting aliens.
In a way, this little ray gun did more than protect our cardboard fortress.
It protected us from seeing what was happening in our family at the time.