Fuck if I know why, but I have always been fascinated by things on sticks. They strike me as elegant, extravagant and just really fun to wave around. Since I was a little kid anything attached to a stick or rod was very, very enticing. Including:
Even those wire flags made with fluorescent plastic that maintenance workers use to mark sprinkler lines and various infrastructure things when building houses. My mom always had to yell at me to leave them alone because they “were important.” To this day I am wary of pulling them out of the ground (but deep down still kind of want to).
Wands and Scepters
I didn’t have a very concrete idea of what these things did, only that fairies and princesses used them, and that you could tap people with them. That was enough.
Nothing says “mature” and “responsible” like tapping at a chalkboard with a long wooden stick. In the Berenstein Bears book The Trouble with Friends, Sister Bear and Lizzie make a pretend classroom. In a tussle, a prized classroom pointer gets broken and I felt that pain just as acutely as they did, I’m sure. And that is the trouble with friends. They do shitty things like break your pointers.
Umbrellas are the ultimate accessory if you’re a little girl. They’re an elegant parasol if it’s sunny, damned useful when it’s rainy and just really fun to jump around with when it’s windy. Possibly my most prized possession from ages 6-8 was the pink and ruffled souvenir parasol I got when my family went to Disneyland. I played with that thing until it disintegrated (at which point I was sadder than I care to admit).
I also spent a lot of time at this age drawing ladies in dresses with huge skirts and bustles, with curly hair and – always – umbrellas. They were so beautiful. And so prepared for rain.
Opera Binoculars and Masks on Sticks
See above for my skewed idea of what “elegance” was.
Food on sticks deserves its own discussion and will be addressed in the future.
Featured image courtesy of hellojenuine/Flickr