A Decade of Infamy…Sort Of

Friday, May 8, 2009

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

A Decade of Infamy…Sort Of

By J’AMY PACHECO

A century from now, it’s unlikely anybody will know anything about me.

For the most part my contributions to this world have been made using paper and ink, and will, I suspect, be fleeting. Paper breaks down, ink fades, and the words I write here today will likely be consigned to oblivion by the time next week’s column comes out.

Presidents get their portraits painted. Worthy artists in film, music, television, radio and theater are immortalized with stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Statesmen become statues, and public buildings everywhere bear metal plaques etched with the names of every elected official that had anything to do with the building’s construction.

I haven’t done anything significant enough to warrant a statue, an oil painting, a star, or even my name on a metal plate. (A night in the custody of law enforcement, maybe, but that’s a different story.)

So when the opportunity to buy a little bit of infamy presented itself, I jumped at it. Well, I didn’t exactly jump – I thought about it for the better part of a year, procrastinated for a couple more, and finally got around to taking action a few months ago.

If you’ve read this column for any length of time, you probably know that Disneyland is my happy place. It’s where I go when I need to leave the real world behind. If I lived closer, I’d stop there every night just to walk around and soak up the ambiance.

Sometimes, we book a hotel room and make a weekend of it. Other times, we go just long enough to let the sights, sounds and scents wash over us, grab a fresh churro, and get back on the freeway. Whatever the reason or the length of time, going there fills me with happy thoughts.

I was, therefore, pretty excited to discover years ago that ordinary people could claim a tiny chunk of Disneyland by purchasing a brick to be placed in what’s called the Walk of Magical Memories. The walk is situated between Disneyland and Disney’s California Adventure in an area known as the Esplanade.

I’d seen the bricks, but didn’t give them much thought until I learned I could have one of my own. This was during 2005, Disneyland’s 50th anniversary year, when people who bought bricks could have commemorative 50th medallions placed in their bricks.

I thought that would be a great idea, until I started noticing how many bricks had had their medallions pried out. I couldn’t imagine who would commit such treachery, and thought I’d be devastated if I showed up one day to find a gluey circle where my medallion used to be.

So I put it off, forgetting about it except when I was actually at the park and walking over other family’s bricks.

When my daughter turned 13 in February, I decided the brick would make a perfect birthday gift. It was a milestone birthday; my daughter has planned since first grade to work as a Disney Imagineer, so I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

Unfortunately, it takes several months from the time an order is placed until the brick is actually installed. For her birthday, she received a paper certificate showing how the brick would look, a map telling her where it would be, and an estimate that the brick would be installed “by May.”

On each subsequent visit, we’ve hurried to the site and searched for our brick, containing our disappointment each time we discovered it wasn’t in. But a few nights ago, realizing it was finally May, we made the 70-some mile trip to look.

I can’t begin to describe how happy my daughter and I were to find our names on the ground at Disneyland, despite the fact they were being severely trod upon by the hordes of stroller-wielding guests pouring out of the park just before closing. We had hoped to get a picture of our faces with the brick, but we quickly realized lying on the ground there at that time would be nothing short of suicidal.

So we contented ourselves with a quick photo of the brick itself, and the knowledge that for at least a decade, we get to be the proud residents of a tiny piece of The Happiest Place on Earth.

Time may forget me, history may never acknowledge me, but at least I know people will be stepping on my name for the next 10 years.

If that isn’t a guaranteed happy thought, I don’t know what is.