Daily prompt: Youthful Nostalgia

Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?

Childhood has a way of leaving its mark on us, often through the items we cherish. Recently, as I’ve watched news stories about wildfires in California, blizzards sweeping the Midwest, and hurricanes along the coasts, I’ve thought a lot about how fragile these treasures really are. For so many, these disasters have ripped away more than just possessions, they’ve taken pieces of our history, tiny shards of who we were.

It’s made me take stock of the things I still have from my own childhood. Digging through boxes at my parents’ house, I’ve rediscovered concert tickets, trinkets from road trips, and name tags from my first jobs. But out of all the mementos I’ve unearthed, nothing resonates quite like my Pokémon memorabilia.

A World of Pocket Monsters

When we moved to Ohio in the late ’90s, I suddenly found myself in a very different world. On the airbase where we’d lived before, kids were everywhere—a built-in community. Ohio, by contrast, felt empty. The houses near us were filled with kids much younger or much older than me, and though I had two older brothers, they weren’t exactly thrilled to have their little brother tagging along.

Enter Pokémon—the ultimate craze of the ’90s. For a kid who felt a bit lost, it became a lifeline. After saving up my allowance, I finally bought a Pokémon Red cartridge. That moment was huge for me. I could finally play the game, trade monsters, and join the proverbial playground water-cooler discussions about which “mons” were the best. I had always loved fire—campfires, fireworks, you name it—so I naturally chose Charmander as my starter. To this day, I still pick the fire starter in every game.

The Charizard That Changed Everything

Not long after the video game craze came the Pokémon Trading Card Game. My neighbors had already introduced me to Magic: The Gathering, but I’d never owned my own cards. Pokémon gave me the chance to jump in from the very beginning, and I went all in.

I’ll never forget the day I pulled a holographic Charizard from a booster pack. It was the crown jewel of my collection, and it still resides in a hardcover case today. Over the years, I’ve been offered a lot of money for it, but I can’t bring myself to part with it. It feels like a piece of my childhood—a stroke of luck that I was fortunate enough to hold onto.

Of course, Pokémon wasn’t my only childhood obsession. Beanie Babies also held a special place in my heart, particularly because they were something my mom and I shared. I still have my Princess Diana bear, and my zodiac 2000 dragon. My Mom is an incredible seamstress and once made me a Pikachu doll that I still have to this day. It’s been passed from my nieces and nephews to my own kids, who now cuddle and play with it. Watching my mom’s face light up when she saw my sons with that Pikachu brought everything full circle. Something that once bonded us now connects her to a new generation.

As my nieces and nephews discovered Pokémon, through my love and all my memorabilia, I lent my nephews my old Game Boy and games. I still remember the postcards they sent me as young kids, thanking me for sharing a part of my childhood with them. They drew little pictures of Pokémon on a handmade postcard for me. Years later, when they were older, they returned everything with a message I’ll never forget: “Thank you for letting us play—it’s their turn now.”

It’s moments like those that remind me why these items matter so much. They’re not just things; they’re bridges—connecting who I was as a child, who I became as an uncle, and now who I am as a parent.

When Ash Ketchum, the character from the Pokémon anime, started his adventure he was just like me as a kid. Hopeful and ready to start moving forward towards his dream of becoming a Pokémon master. After 25 years, it finally happened. It truly brought tears to my eyes. Ash wasn’t just a cartoon character, he was like another kid from my youth, someone who dreamed big and finally achieved it.

For me, these Pokémon pieces represent more than nostalgia. They’re a nearly 30-year arc of my life, a reminder that dreams can come true if we work for them. Just like Ash, we might not get there overnight, but if we keep moving forward, one step at a time, we can become masters of our own goals.

So here’s to holding onto the things that matter. To the memories they carry, the connections they create, and the lessons they teach us about perseverance and hope. After all, the real journey is about striving for your dreams.

Gotta catch ’em all, one step at a time.

K