This story got its start at a meeting of the Bangor Area High School Alumni Association. At the meeting, ideas were suggested for raising funds to support and continue the Association's scholarship program. There were different ideas but the one that the members seemed to like best was purchasing and selling "Slater Bobble Heads." It was decided to purchase five hundred bobble heads, and after several changes and improvements were made to the sample, the order was sent out.
Two weeks ago, we received five hundred bobble heads. Have you any idea how much room it takes to store sixty boxes of those things? They were delivered to Sherk and June Jones' house and unloaded in their cellar. With all of the items we are selling; numerous school and building replicas, which are also stored in their cellar, the bobbles had to find another home. I was asked, and because I have a large cellar, I agreed to take about half of the "Little Slaters."
On a Saturday afternoon my car was loaded and after two trips, I had twenty cases stacked in my cellar. This should have been the end of a rather dull story but I was not prepared for what was to come. The day after receiving the bobbles was like any other day. I had my supper and while watching the news I thought I heard the sound of small voices. I told myself it was probably on TV or outside the house. On the next evening I was sure I heard the same sounds. I got up and walked around the house but the sound suddenly was gone. I had dismissed this completely, but on the third evening when I heard the sounds again, I was determined to find out just what was going on. I was almost certain I heard the sounds coming from my cellar stairs. I opened the door and listened. Sure enough, the sounds were coming from my cellar...soft youthful sounds which turned into conversation.
As I turned on the cellar light, I wasn't ready for what I saw. One of the boxes was open and there standing along side were twelve bobble heads. They were certainly surprised to see me and ran to get back in the box. When I hollered, "STOP," they froze in their tracks supposing that something dreadful was going to happen. When I questioned them they told me that they had been in those boxes all the way from China and just had to get out. I reminded them that they had to stay in those boxes until they were sold.
Realizing there were so many of them, they knew they would be cooped up for quite a while. While I was explaining this to one of them, one of them who seemed to be a leader (they all looked alike to me) spoke up. He started by saying that they had an idea of how we can sell them quicker thus releasing them from their cardboard prisons. I felt rather foolish listening to a ceramic doll, but I listened.
He said that if anyone would purchase eight or more and keep them together they would become not only bobble heads but Bangor cheerleaders as well. Before I could say anything, eight of them formed a straight line and in loud voices gave high school football cheers. I was speechless. Here was a group of ceramic dolls in my cellar, playing cheerleaders. After several cheers, the leader told me this would be a common practice if the eight were kept together. When I questioned him about the other remaining two hundred or more, he assured me that in groups of eight or more they would all be cheerleaders. I thought awhile and concluded this certainly was a novel idea and I could see where it just might sell a lot of bobble heads. I told the little fellow who seemed to be in charge that I would bring it up at our next alumni meeting.
With that, they all climbed back into the box and closed the lid. I am hoping they will remain in the boxes until our next alumni meeting. Can you picture not only twelve, but two hundred forty of those little fellows walking about my cellar, to say nothing of repeated high school cheers, and can you picture me trying to put two hundred forty of them back in the boxes if they refuse to go?
Maybe some of you won't believe this unusual happening but I assure you it is true and it did happen. If you look closely at the box you can see where the ceramic Slaters had removed the carton straps and cut open the lid.
Monday evening, November 29, was like any other Monday evening. I had finished my supper and had turned on the television for news while finishing my coffee. All of a sudden there was this tapping sound that I thought was coming from the TV. I turned off the television but the tapping sound was still there. It appeared to be coming from my back door. I turned on the outside light and looked around. I saw nothing and the tapping sound had stopped.
Tuesday evening during the same routine, I heard that tapping sound again. I checked again and found nothing. Wednesday evening, while getting ready to go out, I heard the sound again. I was determined to find out where it was coming from. I turned on the light and walked around my driveway. There at the corner of the house was (you guessed it) a little bobble head. As I stared down at him, I could see that he was not himself. He had a desperate look on his face.
I was the first to speak. "Where did you come from?"
He told me the most heartbreaking story I had ever heard. It seems as though he was one of the bobble heads that got out of the boxes I had stored in my cellar. I told him that I had put all of the little guys back in the box.
"No," he said. "You missed me. I hid under the steps until you left. I couldn't stand being cooped up in that box and the following morning when you opened the garage door, I sneaked out. I was having the time of my life until it turned colder and I began to miss my buddies. I thought I'd come back and join the gang again, but I always found the door locked."
I said, "Was that you tapping for the past three nights?"
"Yes. Can I come in and join my friends?"
I wasn't sure I wanted to tell him that all his friends were gone.
"Gone, Gone! What do you mean, Gone?"
Then I told him that all of his buddies had been taken to the school and were sold. That did it. He shouted at me, "Where are they now?"
I told him that I had no idea who had purchased them, let alone where they lived. He was speechless for several minutes. Then he finally said, almost begging, "Would you buy me so I can come in out of the cold and have a place to celebrate Christmas? I'll find a place on your shelf and promise I won't be any bother."
You know I said, "Yes."
Now I don't know of many bobble heads that smile but this one grinned from ear to ear. I was kind of pleased and it showed on my face, too.
This is how I got my bobble head, and with a bonus no less. He has the loveliest little voice and has been singing Christmas carols for the past two weeks. We plan to have a wonderful Christmas together, and you know, I now have a friend for life. Some day I must find out where some of his friends are so I can take him to visit. I know this would please him to no end. After all, they shared a box all the way from China.
A few nights ago, the Bangor Area High School Alumni Association held a fund raising program at the dedication of the new building at Washington Township School. Funds raised are used to support our scholarship program.
The Association had a hot dog stand along with sodas and ice cream. Another stand sold chances on various baskets. A third stand had T-shirts, sweat shirts, replicas and bobble heads for sale. I asked if I could work at this stand. Well, this was the beginning of a most unusual evening. The table was filled with all of our products and on each end of the table was a bobble head, During a lull in the course of the evening I took some photos. While I was aiming the camera I could have sworn one of the bobble heads stared at me. When I sat down at the table, I heard a small voice say, "Don’t I know you?" I couldn’t believe it but it was the bobble head talking. He continued by saying “You’re the guy that locked me in your cellar a couple years ago. If it weren’t for Sherk Jones, I’d still be there.”
I didn’t know what to say. It’s a little difficult when you are trying to have a conversation with a bobble head. I admitted I was the one and felt very foolish apologizing to a small ceramic doll. He asked if he might be sold and I told him in was quite possible. Some time later, a young lady asked to buy a bobble head. He looked at me with a sad look on his face. He shook his head as if to say no and then gave me a little smile. I knew right then that he had some sort of feeling toward me. I sold the bobble head at the other end of the table.
No one else saw it, but he smiled at me from ear to ear. I thought this was the end of it, but in a quiet voice he asked if any of his buddies were still around. "Yes," I said, "but a lot of them are living in fine homes. In fact, I have a friend of yours on my shelf." He seemed pleased. Then leaning close to him I said. "Don’t be surprised if you find yourself with him one of these days." He said. "I’d like that very much, standing on a shelf and not in the cellar." Just then someone came by and asked me who I was talking to. "No one," I said. He replied, "But I heard you." In a quiet voice I told him, "You wouldn’t believe me. Let’s leave it at that." I looked at the bobble head and he winked at me. Yes bobble heads can wink and you all know they can talk.
When the evening was over and I was home sitting in my favorite chair, I thought about it and wondered if anyone else was able to talk to bobble heads or maybe I was the only one with the gift. It’s true; I do talk to bobble heads.