Horned Toads and Kaleidoscopes

In case you didn’t know, horned toads, sometimes called horny toads, are not actually toads at all. They are lizards, and my ability to catch these lightening fast little creatures once allowed me to gain a much-longed-for prize.

Hidden along a side wall in an old-fashioned general store there was a kaleidoscope that I coveted. Looking back, I realize it was likely just a cheap cardboard gimmick, but I loved it so. From the first time I held it up to my face, I was enthralled, even if it was unlikely I would ever be able to come up with the money. My parents did not give allowances. The only way I could earn money was to find old pop bottles along the sides of the road. This would net five cents, or occasionally, ten cents for the more rare bottles. I don’t remember having more than fifty cents at any given time.

The owner of the store knew how much I loved that toy, so he let me enjoy it, often several times in a single week. He did have his limits, though. It was somewhere along about week three or four that he informed me that I had to either buy the thing or leave it alone. He was very kind, however, and in the same breath that he dealt me the blow, he let me know that he would pay me a quarter (A WHOLE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS!) for a live horned toad. I was a smart kid and quickly figured out that if I could come up with nine of those lizards, the kaleidoscope would be mine. (I didn’t know about sales tax and such at that age, so I suspect the owner took care of it for me.)

It took me less than a week to show up at the store with a yellow shoebox full of grass clippings and leaves, an assortment of bugs, and nine live horned toads! The kaleidoscope became mine. It remained with me through several childhood homes-and even a couple of my adult homes. It was finally tossed out when my toddler son pulled it apart and began chewing on one end.

Today, I still love kaleidoscopes and have even considered purchasing one of those high-end wooden ones. I’m still too frugal to do it, but I have thought about it, because it represents something more to me now. It is now a container of broken bits and pieces in which you can still find astounding beauty. Much like us humans, you know?