Hand in the cookie jar

 

I've been thinking a lot about how much waiting we're all doing these days, and, in particular, what that's doing to my patience.

I've always considered myself a patient person and others do, too. But with how much waiting I've been doing for the last year, I'm wondering if my patience is gradually wearing thin.

Obviously, there is a lot of waiting for the big things, waiting for a vaccine, waiting to eat in a restaurant, waiting to go out in public without a mask, waiting to shop, attend events, celebrate achievements and milestones as we once did.

 

Then there is the sheer amount of waiting FOR EVERYTHING that I never expected before the pandemic hit. Inordinate wait times for things like the mail, an update from a lawyer, a medical appointment, etc. I'm noticing that I'm getting more impatient. Common occurrences like computer delays at work make me more anxious than usual, and I think it's because there is waiting all the time.

 

It reminds me of when I was a kid. You remember that, right? You remember how much waiting you did then?

 

I waited constantly. Anything that I wanted to do required waiting. Any place I wanted to go. Any item I wanted to buy. So much waiting.

 

Every day the wait for dinner seemed to take forever. Waiting to go to play. Waiting for the clock to move in class.

 

Then there was the cookie jar.

 

What a big deal that thing is in the life of a kid.

 

I waited constantly for that cookie jar to open. Whether for my mom to open it to hand me a cookie or for the glorious chance to open the cookie jar myself. The Wait was intense. And sometimes it overwhelmed so much that I just stuck my hand in the cookie jar without anyone giving me permission.

 

I would think, "One day I will get all the cookies I want. Nobody will keep me from the cookie jar."

 

And so it was with cards. I had only enough money to buy two packs, but I wanted three. The kid down the block had an entire set of that year's cards. I wanted that. But I had to wait. Maybe if I saved my allowance, for like months. I couldn't wait that long!

 

As I grew older, I wanted older cards. Stuff from the '50s and '60s seemed unattainable. I had to practice patience. Card shows came around maybe once or twice a year. I had to wait it out.

 

Now I'm an adult. I have been for awhile. And I can put my hand in the cookie jar any time I want. My collection would blow the mind of 10-year-old night owl. Obviously I have placed my hand in the cookie jar many, many times to have the cards I have.

 

 

Jonathan just sent me another batch of cards that would make my 10-year-self as envious as ever. What kind of world am I living in now? Could that kid even envision it?

 

 

 

A world of vintage cards from the '50s and '60s. Stuff that kid wouldn't even know what it was, except that he wanted it.

 

 

 

A world of Dodgers vintage cards from the '50s and '60s. Yes, young night owl, this is One Day! This is the world inside the cookie jar.

 

 

 

Imagine a world in which you needed just one more card (Charlie Neal) to complete the 1955 Bowman Dodgers team set.

 

 

 

Imagine a world in which you have doubles of a 1951 Bowman card! The explosion that just went off in young night owl's mind!

 

 

Imagine a world of two Rocky Colavito cards. Yeah, I know you don't know who he is, but I'm told he was a big deal before we were even born.

 

 

 

Imagine a world where you own a bunch of 1965 Topps, a set that you're not really collecting but is kind of just there just in case you get discouraged about collecting the 1967 Topps set. What a luxurious, extravagant world that is!

 

 

 

And, oh, by the way, Jonathan sent me a 1967 card that I needed. Gary Geiger looks like he's spotted the world's biggest cookie jar.

 

 

 

Imagine a world where someone just sends you a 1953 Topps Joe Black card. And it looks like this. I know you can't. Heck, grown-ass people now can't imagine that. But that's the world inside that cookie jar.

 

Jonathan even took care of the older night owl, the one who looks at those people who open high-end cards constantly. Those are moments for when I'm still a kid. "I'll never be able to do that."

 

 

He took care of that for me.

 

Really not my style of cards but it's nice to say I have them.

 

 

This is the one day world in which I live. It took a lot of waiting. It took a lot of patience.

 

Which is why I'm hoping, that if I can keep my patience up, there is a wonderful world like this on the other side of the pandemic.

 

Imagine -- just imagine -- all the cookie jars at those card shows.