An overdue Eulogy for my childhood security toy, Mr. Woody Woodpecker

When I was little, I was an only child for about 9 years until my little brother arrived. As a result, I was often by myself or lonely. It didn’t feel lonely; I was always very entertained, felt busy, and had a cool childhood. Nonetheless, there were many activities I took part in that may not have developed if I’d had siblings earlier. One such practice was that every morning when I’d get up to watch TV, I'd set up a row of stuffed animals to sit next to me against the wall. I’d arrange them from smallest to biggest, with this huge-ass bear I had being the biggest.

The star of the show, though, unequivocally, was my stuffed Woody Woodpecker. I did not have a security blanket; I had Woody Woodpecker. He sat wherever the hell he pleased. Arranged by size applied not to Woody.

This guy went everywhere with me. The only problem with a small child transporting a plush toy everywhere they go is that it inevitably gets disgusting.

My default mode of transporting him via biting down and sucking on his beak did not slow down the aging process. I’m not an expert at caring for plush toys, but I’m confident that consistent exposure to human saliva is not in any maintenance guides. Anyways, the thing got filthy.

Young Sherif and an aging Woody Woodpecker . Estimated date of photograph 1992-3.

My parents grew tired of seeing me lug it around everywhere. Each wash brought with it a deterioration in quality: a loose eye, some tattered seams. His bright yellow beak was turning into a darker color even fresh out of the wash. It wasn’t a good look. At the time, I’d started going to my local Boys and Girls Club, which was a pretty cool place for me. It was there that I first found out that billiards, swimming, ping pong, video games, basketball, and other humans existed. That was a lot for a young child to discover in one building.

Anyways, I was exposed to a lot of different elements there and began to grow up a little bit. One activity that really clicked for me was playing Connect Four. This game instantly resonated with me, and I loved playing it.

Soon the filthy nature of Woody Woodpecker had become unavoidable. No amount of washing changed his increasingly unpresentable nature. Elements of parental pressure began to appear. The idea of getting rid of Woody was floated and began to appear with some frequency. Never did it cross my mind that this would happen.

On this particular night, my cousins were visiting, and the evening found us in a mall food court. Suddenly, without my knowing, I’d soon be involved in an iconic and formative moment. My mom began the familiar speech to encourage me to get rid of Woody. I said hell no! My cousins, unaware of the dynamics of being an only child, chimed in. Yeah, you’re too old for stuffed animals. You have so many anyways. We began to huddle; it felt sports-like. I didn’t watch sports at that age, but the sports tension I innately felt. “I’ll get you Connect 4,” my mom chimed in.

Oh shit. Excuse me? Connect 4.? Wow. My own set huh.? This was a new stage. A boys and girls club game designed for two players would now be available to me for home use? Sold! I succumbed to the transactional aspect, being placed atop the peer pressure. I then broke from the huddle, walked to the food court trash bin, and pushed him through the little swinging door. Instant regret. I jumped up and down immediately and went to hug both my cousins, who were energetically disappointing me.

I needed it to look and feel like Jordan had just hit the Championship Winning buzzer beater. Game 7.

Instead, it felt like people celebrating a successful recycling situation. Despite the pain of the car ride home, Connect Four was in my future. I took some solace in that.

The next day, bright and early, I woke up my mom. Let’s go! Where? She asked? “Are you kidding me!?” I thought. Connect Four! She responded… “Oh! We will get it on Monday or after this weekend. Your cousins are here,” I believe this is what she said.

This felt simply unacceptable. I’d thrown my best friend in the garbage. The trash. He should have been sung songs and buried in the woods in a circle of people discussing their favorite memories endearingly reading off of pieces of paper they held with appropriate tender delicacy. The words they’d thoughtfully written, illuminated by the crackling fire and full moon above as they paused from time to time to keep from getting too choked up. He should have been reupholstered, framed, or upcycled and fashioned into a bra for a particularly high-ranking Victorian queen or something. Not shoved into some food court trash bin between a Panda Express and a Wendy’s.

As for the gap in timing after this evening’s iconic life event... We should have been playing Connect Four on the ride home. Anyways, I’m glad my parents made me get rid of things I’d outgrown, but I still have pain when I think of young Woody. I recently looked online for Woody Woodpecker stuffed animals, ignoring how regressive that may be, but could not find any builds or designs that satisfied the original design of the amazing Woody.

I, therefore, decided to leave Woody in my nostalgic past. I will say this though… If you and I were ever to play Connect Four. I’m going to beat the hell out of you with an inexplicable vigor and passion that seems both fantastical and aggressively over the top. Please forgive my overly competitive Connect 4 demeanor. It’s a soft spot for me. I’m playing for Woody.

Pictured above Howard Wexler's 1974 , Connect 4 game, an intellectually stimulating game devoid of softness, notably requiring opponents.

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Sherif currently resides in Northern New Jersey, where he works as a freelance filmmaker. Sources say he still has ambitions of being a comedian. But he hasn’t yet gotten anywhere in life being a clown. As of the date of this writing, no known photographs exist depicting Sherif playing Connect Four. Some sources even speculate that he no longer plays the game.