Crazy Stable

Craigslist may be most notorious for getting a few hapless victims together with their murderers, but I've found it to be a life-enhancing Force for Good through freecycling. I haven't scored too many treasures through their free section, but I've had the pleasure of re-homing some choice items to others in my eternal quest to declutter the Crazy Stable. Most recent case in point: My old deerstalker.

God knows how long ago, or where, I procured this object. A size 7 1/4, it perched ridiculously on my big head, but I wore it occasionally in college or shortly thereafter, perhaps while stalking the odd English actor or two. (I love the Conan Doyle stories, but have always been more enchanted by the cinematic incarnations of Holmes, from Basil Rathbone to Robert Downey, Jr., with special affection for Nicol Williamson's tenderly strung-out cokehead and Robert Stephen's fruity/plummy turn for Billy Wilder.)

But the time had come to de-accession. Daughter spurned it, and it seemed a poor candidate for the Goodwill, so I posted:

Genuine Worth & Worth 'deerstalker' hat. About 20+ years old, but only worn a few times (in a smoke-free, pest-free household) by a Person of Impeccable Hygiene. Fine wool hat for general head-warming apps, and of course indispensable for a Sherlock costume. (Sorry, no pipe or Watson available.) Pick up at my house near Prospect Park. BTW, what's your favorite Holmes story?

 That last query was to winnow out the freecyling bottom-feeders who seemingly grab for anything. (Do they all request the endless offers of packing peanuts and "like-new" mattresses, I wonder?) To my surprise, the ad triggered a small torrent of eager takers, many of whom sent frantic pleas from their Blackberries. Together, their responses made a lovely collage of "stories from the Naked City" (although one with a great fondness for headwear). A sampling:

so wonderful, please say i may pk up on sunday, thanks, jakiee

Omg do you still have it? My favorite story is The adventure of The Noble Bachelor! Let me know. –austin

I love hats of all kinds in the process of making a large collection of different styles please contact me …Julio

althought I would love it--I fear it is too small for me (I am 7 3/4) but nice to see a real deerstalker again! Oh 'The Man with the Twisted Lip'
best of luck
Henry

[Subject line: The Hound of the Baskervilless]

Hello there,
Is this hat still available? It's perfect for my father, he loves Sherlock Holmes! I want to give it to him for his birthday! I can come pick it up.

Jessica

[Subject line: I have a huge hat collection for the theatre]

i'm in the theatre and have boaters, pith helmets, mosquite helmets, and on and on--but nothing like that. i'd love to add it if it's not promised.

Is this still available? Every year I say I'm going to make a Sherlock Holmes costume for my dog, and every year I wait too long. This year he went as a surfer dude instead, but a wily detective is much more dignified.
Kate  [included picture of her dog in a blond wig]

I would LOVE, love, love to get this hat from you to wear. I enjoy things with history and due to a "gum incident' sleeping with my nieces, my formerly should length hair is now for the most part only 1/2" long. I rarely wear hats, however with lack of hair to keep me warm, I must succumb to wearing one. I would  love to continue to give your hat new life. I am a non-smoker. Lastly, the Sherlock Holmes stories are books that I give my nieces and nephews as they are able to read them. They brought me considerable happiness as a child. I walked around with carrots hanging out of my mouth envisioning that I was Ms. Sherlock Holmes. I can pick up TONIGHT. Thanks, Lisa

I'd love this wonderful hat. Hound of the baskerville, would unfortunately have to be the only story that I've read featuring the venerable mister Holmes. But I'm hoping this hat will change all that! Please let me know!

Best, Bobby

I guess I don't have a particular favorite story, but I do like Holmes, and actually smoke a pipe. I'd love to get the hat. Let me know,
Peter

The Blue Carbuncle!  Where the jewel is found in the crop of the goose (it bothers me not a bit that geese have no crops...).  What's yours?!  If the hat is still available I would stop by for it!  Liam  

My boyfriend needs this! Is it still available?  --Ashley

I'd love to come pick up the hat some time tomorrow morning. As for my favorite Holmes story, I'll go with The Hound of the Baskervilles.
Crystal

Austin got the hat because he responded first with a story name. He showed up on the porch, a pleasant young hipsterish fellow, and bore it away with apparent delight. But I regretted not having waited long enough to give it to a lady named Sarah. She specified both her favorite novel (Hound of the Baskervilles) and story (The Musgrave Ritual), but she absolutely aced the e-mail subject line:

Oh my holy god I must have this object.

Sorry, Sarah. But don't despair; who knows what else may emerge from the closets?  

Illustrations: Sidney Paget

Wow, a real heartbreaker of a story in Today's New York Times: There is, it seems, a movement afoot to restore children's playtime. This is positive but pitiful, because apparently lots of children have forgotten how to play.

"Play" here is defined, rightly, as stuff kids do on their own--not with digital screens, and not with parents, counselors, coaches, or party motivators. It's what we used to call, in my "Wonder Years"-like childhood, "going outside," except when it was raining, when you called it...um, "playing." Or "making stuff up." And for all our blathering purple TV dinosaurs exhorting kids to "use their imaginations," it would seem that we've turned them into nation of Nevilles: cosseted, overstimulated couch potatoes incapable of a frolic that doesn't involve pixels, vigilant authority figures, or crash helmets.

The usual suspects are blamed: paranoia about unsupervised outdoor roaming, digital everything, and the insane focus on peewee sport and academic superachieving. One profiled mom, who has overcome her painful aversion to stuff littering the floor and embraced free play at home, tried to get recess revived (revived!) at her kids' elementary school:

"But school officials were too worried about potential injuries, unruliness and valuable time lost from academic pursuits to sign on to her idea and, she was surprised to find, many parents were similarly reluctant. “They said: ‘I’m not going to sign that. I’m sure there is a good reason why this is good for our kids — our school has good test scores.’ "

An impressive coalition of sane experts is advocating for a return to simple, old-fashioned play, even staging an "Ultimate Block Party" in Central Park to introduce the city's uber-offspring to such exotic pursuits as make-believe, jump rope and I Spy. Good start, but enabling a play-rich childhood for kids isn't rocket science. The secret to my daughter's happy feral childhood (inspired by the parenting of Bestfriend) was, in a sense, a whole lot of nothing. Bestfriend and I both found great value in: no money, no fear of boredom, and a steely willingness to say "no" to some things (and "yes" to others). 

Lack of money. So much cable, so many digital devices, and so few dollars! It's a winning combination. We have never had a video gaming system, because they are really expensive.  Yet I've taught classes of inner-city children and polled them: 100% household penetration for these addictive gizmos, even among working-class and poor kids. Ditto for premium cable, cell phones, and other electronic gadgetry. I don't know where folks find the money for this stuff, but we sure as hell didn't have it. So...we didn't buy the stuff. (Everybody's got one? Not you, kiddo!)

Whenever we could, though, we bought books, art supplies, little plastic wild animals and Beanie Babies instead. My Aunt Valeska, a pioneering Montessori teacher, raised my cousins on something thinner than a shoestring, (they are all the most resourceful people I've ever met), and she could get a bunch of kids going with paper bags and string. Her "less is more" philosophy restrained me from feeling obliged to be Daughter's playmate or recreation director. The best stuff happened without my interference, like these (above)...Daughter called them "Tufties," product of her month-long Googly Eyes Period. She wound up taking custom orders for them from schoolmates. (Here, they are guarded by Jawas.) A packet of googly eyes is about 79 cents, by the way.

No fear of boredom. On summer days when the backyard's charms waned, I would drag daughter to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. And I mean drag: It was "stupid" and "boring" and had nothing but "dumb plants" and there was "nothing to do." Until I set her loose in the BBG's Children's Garden, where some genius put a huge table full of pinecones, and my shy child played spontaneously with another kid for the very first time. Later, we'd hang out under this mighty willow next to the stream, where we developed elaborate leaf-boating strategies. When kids whine that they're "bored," try answering, "Good! That's when you figure out something interesting to do!" And then, having secured the matches and the cutlery, walk away.

No to some things, yes to others. It was "no" to GameBoy, and, sadly, to just "going outside." (This is 21st-century Brooklyn, not Sixties suburbia.) But whenever possible, we said "yes" to takeovers of the kitchen table for miniature zoos; to paint, clay, and glue; to dress-up raids on my closet, within reason; and to garden excavations for worm and pillbug husbandry. Daughter and her BFF were particularly obsessed with Beanies, whose world could take over ours at any moment (as for this rock concert).

Acccording to psychologist Kathy Hirsh-Pasek, “Play is just a natural thing that animals do and humans do, but somehow we’ve driven it out of kids.” We can't drive it back in, even with "ultimate block parties." What we can do is...nothing. "Play is the work of childhood," Aunt Valeska used to say. Is it really so hard to let kids get on with their work?

Images: Edward Gorey, The Gashlycrumb Tinies, available from Edward Gorey House.