The Tomb of Broken Dolls--an Appeal for Respect for Outgrown and Disabled Toys

JF Ptak Science Books  Post 349

"No two toys are ever broken in the same way or with the same emotional results." RobertGraves, Poetic Unreason

 I first wrote about this fabulous idea--a tomb or memorial for broken and lost toys--on this blog almost three years ago--it still seems like an utterly fantastic practice.

 This is an absolutely outstanding concept, and I simply have no notion as to why we don't have such observations in the United States.  (The following two details are from the larger images, below, found  in the 27 July 1929 issue of The Illustrated London News, page 157.) The story provides these two pictures and unfortunately scant details of the ceremony which was held at the Imperial Primary School at Sugamo, Japan. 

The first photo shows the detail of children offering flowers for the altar on which their tray of broken dolls is being venerated; and to the right is the detail of children bowing to the grave of "broken playthings", though the markings on the (grave?) stone indicate that it is for dolls.  It also seems to be a marker for a mass of toys, not that each toy would have its own marker; I suspect it to be enough to have a place where allot of kids could come to venerate objects in which they might have invested countless hours of their time, effort, attention and affection.  That it is a shared place and experience makes the monument all the more so powerful.

There are few better things to teach a child than to pay respects for something that has given them pleasure or helped them, or, say, for returning the love which has been showed them from their doll or toy.  It has always struck me as not-quite-right that a toy can be a beloved object one day and a dust-magnet the next, destined for the trash heap.  Certainly these are holy objects in themselves, and deserve a better and more kinder fate than being mixed with broken glass and greasy unmentionables. 

 

 

Are there greater things to be concerned with?  Yes, of course, but only on the face of it--I think that helping kids understand the underlying dignity of inanimate objects such as their playthings could give them a greater awareness for the other seemingly invisible things that they will find throughout their lives. Further I think that a visible, constant reminder for these objects would be really more like a memory-monument for a period of time, a place in nearly everyone's life in which held a certain purity and promise, a protected and beloved frailty of the human experience shared by all.  I can honestly think of no other monument that could reach across religious or philosophical or belief systems to arouse a feeling of common goodness than this. Everyone has had a toy that they've loved, and I have no doubt that if remembered these would be powerful emotions, and could be about the most common denominator we have on the planet.  I can think of no divisive element in such a monument of veneration.

Comments

[patti digh]

And *this*, my dear man, is why I fell in love with you, married you, had babies with you, and intend to grow old with you.

[LadyExpat]

I love the idea. We live in such a disposable society. Perhaps if we honored what do discard, we would discard less, and consume less. Great post.

[Sarah Morgan]

What a beautiful idea. It validates all the emotion the children invest in their toys, and teaches them something about consumerism besides. I wonder how many parents shrug off their child's crying about a broken toy, and how many really give it a moment.

[Jeff]

Sarah brings up a good point. This post is for parents. Children feel the grief, but I think many of us reflexively say, "It's OK" and "We can get another." The reflex is to spare our loved ones pain instead of helping them to feel it properly. The best thing about this is not the chance for a lesson but rather taking seriously a child's deeply emotional response to the world.

[Rick Hamrick]

Jeff nailed it--particularly American, the idea of skipping past grieving by buying something in replacement is a tragic teaching of emotionally stunted people, passing along their inability to simply be sad, feel that sadness, and process it.

My wife has a marvelous ability to simply cry her way through feeling loss, sometimes a general sense of loss she is unable to pinpoint. She has helped me touch that place inside myself where deep feelings reside and wait patiently for their turn to be expressed.