Classy black tux and slacks, white dress shirt, black dress socks and shoes, graceful black top-hat and glass eyepiece: the man of my Christmas present dreams! For months, I hinted, pleaded and begged for this one of a kind fellow. He was none other than a Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist doll and my 6-year old heart burst every time I laid eyes on him in our annual Christmas toy magazine.
And even though it was the only gift I truly longed for that year, I didn’t expect to get it. Because it was a vintage-style legitimate ventriloquist doll, it was expensive. Though it hurt to see that costly price tag every time I gazed on the advertisement, I couldn’t take my eyes off the prize. I was determined to pull every method possible to convince my parents of my devotion to the doll.
Yes, I used the common tactic of desperate children world-wide, the I’ll-never-ask-for-anything-else-for-as-long-as-I-live exclamation. And I am here to tell you that tactic is world-know for a reason.
Christmas morning came and so did my new friend Charlie! Even now when I look back on home videos of that glorious morning, I smile. Nearly every frame of footage got bombarded with me shouting in my lisp-y, speech-impaired southern accent “it’s uh Chawy McCawfy dawl!”
The first years with Charlie were a blast. I loved practicing my ventriloquist skills! And with each day I was still just as proud of him as the first day we met.
Until one fateful afternoon that all changed. At an age where my two older sisters’ approval was growing in importance, their opinion of my new friend started to develop in my brain: Charlie was creepy.
Wearing a black suit fit for a funeral, an eye-glass and a top hat over dark, plastic and all-too styled hair should’ve tipped me off to his eerie demeanor from the start. If all that wasn’t enough, it suddenly seemed every Goosebumps episode preview on Nickelodeon was about a ventriloquist doll having a mind of its own.
Needless to say, Charlie and I parted ways soon after that. I’ll always appreciate the joy his presence brought me at the start of our friendship: one of my favorite Christmas memories indeed. But over time, people change and grow apart. Sorry, Charlie.
