Damn Duckie

September 30, 2012
My sister's comfort item as a baby/kid was a duck rattle lovingly called, "Damn Duckie." He looked an awful lot like this duckie. Only she'd chewed his beak off, his hair (lace on his head) was gone, and I think one of his eyes was missing. She took Duckie to school one day - against my mom's strong advice to never take Duckie to school - and lost him.

I think that's what all her issues now stem from.

Anyway. Duckie went everywhere with us. San Diego, Sea World, Bear Lake, the store, Grandma's house. You name it and Duckie was there. One time Kimmy left Duckie at my Grandma's house. After hours of trantrum throwing late into the night, my Dad finally decided it was better to just drive back to my Grandma's house and get Duckie. When he walked in and everyone wondered why he was back so late, he said two words and two words only. "Damn Duckie."

So when I saw this lost Duckie on the trail to Willard Peak, I laughed hysterically and knew he just had to come home with us. Well, come home with Blu. I'm sure there's some frantic parent driving all over the mountainside looking for their kid's Damn Duckie, but I couldn't help myself. Blu needed a comfort item. And the memory of Duckie was just too much for my heart to ignore.