Journal Entry: Nonfiction—

If you could have any view from your home, what would it be of?

A few years ago, my buddies over at Disney had a great promotion—who the heck remembers the name of it, but I do remember it had something to do with these ‘Magical Moments’ where they have these Cast Members with random gifts stand in certain spots and, if you were there, puft, you got a gift.

Some of them, well, most of them were zero skin off of Disney’s nose, and basically giving you the overpriced crap they bought for 30 cents from Oriental Trading years ago and couldn’t get rid of. Some was just a cup of soda pop; maybe the occasional pair of ears. Husotter and I won as well, getting a free “Fast Pass” for all of the rides in the park for one day and then getting a lanyard with a collectable pin on it.

Okay, those were pretty cool gifts, moments, whatever have you. We danced and sang when they handed it to us.

But there was a huge, huge, huge prize. Something we only saw reported on the nightly news. It was so big that they would only give it to one family a night. In Disneyland, it was a night in the apartment that once called itself the Disney Gallery; in Walt’s World, it was the space in the famed castle. Can you imagine? As much as I love Disney, imagine staying in those magical parks and seeing the pixie dust settle and the Imagineering folks prepping for another Disney Day.

I think it’s important to point out, I’ve seen the Disney logo of a castle every day of my freegin life. I have it practically on everything, including the wallpaper of this computer I’m writing from. I don’t want a view of that dreamy castle.

But the specific view I’d love to have would be from either of these two spaces. The view would be for those 24 hours out the front, side and back windows. I want to see not only the night come to a close and the lights shut down; I want to see the wondrous clamor of incoming joy and prolonged happiness of dreams coming true.

Disney portrays things in my life that I believe. Now, understand, I don’t mean the man himself or the corporation that became the bottom line of cash flow—I’m talking about the ethereal concept of a dream factory we call Disney. A place where fairies are more than real, animals can speak with more comprehensive understanding then their human handlers and adventures can happen to the everyman more so than any hero prepped for the job.

The Disney Parks represent a certain virtual reality before the term was even invented. We all have dreams. For some, they filter through the time created by age and when rational thought overturns the fanciful. But kids don’t suffer from that. They can play Superman, with the help of a blood-red towel in the backyard (with the dog standing-in for Krypto). And a family, linked to that child, can relive those now-unbelievable moments.

Or they can be like me.

I never really left.

“If you don’t grow up by middle age, you don’t have to,” James Gurney was quoted as saying. With me, that’s true. My brain, when permitted to wonder, creates tales that only I can make true with pen and paper. And I work with children, so I know that those dreams change every couple of moments.

And I’m not alone. I know of a myriad of adults who play video games and go to Disney without any nieces or nephews in tow. I’d be one of them.

My father passed away when I was four. I was too young to appreciate the magnitude of the event, but strangely, I remember that my world changed right afterwards-Ma took me and my brother to Disney World. And all of those dreams that kids make up were in front of me. I hate to use the word “life-affirming” but my dreams had become realized.

And that “World” was not clean, folks. There were ghosts floating in old homes and skeletons on the beaches of Caribbean. But for my tiny brain, I could handle it and grow up understanding. From those small steps in the Florida sun, I had found myself.

So that’s why I want to see those smiles (and yes, I’m even okay with the too-tired tears that appear around naptime) from the comfort of my home, the origin topic of this post. I would love to be part of that dream too, some day, making people happy just as much.

I hope that makes sense. I didn’t mean to get so heady, but many, heck, everyone asks why I love Disney so much. Hopefully, this scratches the surface. I cannot use my gifts of language too much, for defining my joys to you would be like describing colors to a man blind since birth.

You’re just going to have trust me on this!