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May 7th, 2005

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  1. zipdodah says

    Thanks for the memories…….
    I loved Pixieland! My favorite was the log flume.
    With 6 kids, almost every weekend, my parents would take us to the coast. Stopping at Pixieland and Pixie Kitchen was a bonus if we had all been behaving well the previous week. Which was no easy task for our brood.
    I remember the mirrors in the entryway of Pixie Kitchen….creepy but fun. We used to call it the “Land of Pixies” … and my little brothers and I would go hunting for them….

    May 9th, 2005 | #

  2. Wacky Mommy says

    I loved Pixieland, too! Especially the log ride, and the crazy haunted house ride with the cars shaped like big teddy bears and the dancing dolls (it sounds creepy but wasn’t, it was too cool). I cried when they shut it down — I thought it would always be there forever, y’know?

    The Opera House was so awesome, with the Snidely Whiplash-type guys. “You must pay the rent!” “I can’t pay the rent!” My first introduction to live theater…

    May 9th, 2005 | #

  3. GeminiMom98 says

    Wow, what a blast from the past. Thanks, Wacky Mommy!! This was the big treat whenever we were headed to Lincoln City or Beverley Beach. GREAT place to fly kites, Beverley Beach. No place to pee, however. I remember the smallest little jr. ferris wheel at Pixieland I’ve ever seen, and tiger swings that went around and around like a mini Yoyo ride at a traveling Playland Shows carnival.

    I don’t know why I loved those silly tigers so much — they reminded me of the story Little Black Sambo. And then, if Grandma was with us, we invariably at hamburgers at the Little Black Sambo’s in Lincoln City. I’m kind of uncomfortable just writing that out — I’m glad it’s been PC’d up to — what is it, just Little Sambo’s today? Still pushing it, though I went there a couple years ago, and the food was pretty good. I guess some things never die.

    Anyway, I was, am, and shallt always be a ride wimp, so I appreciated the easy little kid rides at Pixieland that didn’t push me past my bravery limit. I also loved the log flume ride, though it terrified me utterly. I always rode with my sister, who protected me from certain death.

    I went to a Christian camp near Pixieland for years (the meanest, vilest children I ever met attended that camp), and when Pixieland closed down, Camp Winema (on the beach between Cloverdale and Neskowin) bought or somehow acquired the big, yellow Pixieland slide. Once the sun dried the mist from the surface, usually about noon, the slide would be open for rides. You could ride and ride and ride, all afternoon if you wanted — for free!!! The view from the top was great — it was maybe 20 feet back from the edge of the sand, so you could see way out to sea, and the breeze was always cool. That and the rowboats almost made up for my experience as the mousey kid who was repeatedly tortured by other heavily repressed junior Christians. Oh, and the macrame. Always loved the macrame.

    Pixieland will never truly die!

    June 11th, 2005 | #

  4. Wacky Mommy says

    I had similar, horrible “Christian” experiences at camp. Once the counselor twisted my arm *hard* cuz I stood up to sing at the wrong time. (Story of my life.) You’re not alone…

    June 11th, 2005 | #

  5. GeminiMom says

    I don’t think I ever told this story to anyone. My parents sent me a care package at camp every year, and this one year, besides the candy and cracker jacks and pre-stamped postcards for me to write home with, they included a squirt gun. This one girl — oh, God, she was so MEAN — like if she had possessed an iron maiden, she would have stuffed all of her bunkmates into it one by one. She would have woken us up with a tazer just for the fun of it.

    Anyway, she stole my squirt gun — weirdly, I still remember it was yellow — filled it with water, and then squirted me, like in the face and ears and all over my shirt. And then, when I retreated to my bed, she squirted me between the legs. Like it went on and on and on — just nightmarish. There were other girls there, in the cabin — not the counselor, but none of us were brave enough to stand up to her.

    I wish I had just launched myself at her and smashed her in the mouth. She stripped me of every shred of dignity. And then earned the praise of all the good couselors when she witnessed around campfire that evening. Gah.

    Oh well, I think it would be best for me to decide to forgive that girl — didn’t even know that ruby of anger was still burning in there. This was what, maybe 30 years ago? Who knows what horros drove her to be such an empty, cruel person. I hope her life improved, and she experienced enough kindness somewhere to make her want to give it a try.

    June 11th, 2005 | #

  6. Wacky Mommy says

    It’s that Lord of the Flies thing. It gets to girls and boys both.

    Here’s my question: How do we talk to our little kids about this stuff, without scaring them? I don’t want to traumatize them by telling horror stories, but I want them to know in advance the Evil That Children Do and teach them some self-defense techniques, and let them know they can always talk to me about it, we can change schools, move cross country, call the cops, whatever.


    June 12th, 2005 | #

  7. GeminiMom says

    Well, you can just go with some of the things you wrote, i.e. always keeping lines of communication open and encouraging them to tell when people do bad things to them, or to other helpless people for that matter. Stand up for justice, even if it means narking to your mom.

    I proably wouldn’t share the actual horror stories with little kids — that’s my bias, because I want my sweet little innocents to stay that way as long as possible. Meaning, I don’t want my cynicism to train them to see bad before seeing anything else — I think life will do that for them more than I want it to without assistance from me. But yeah, then the trick is empowering them so the world (and especially school) doesn’t chew them up and spit them out.

    I know my parents wanted us to handle stuff ourselves — that’s good and bad, of course, a double-edged sword (parenthood seems to present us with a depressing number of these). Especially my dad didn’t want me to be a wimp, but you know, I kinda was, and feeding me to the wolves didn’t “make me tougher.” It just hurt a lot. I think self-reliance is good, but not when it silences a person and makes them take all the shit on themself, which is how I would probably describe my experiences back then with bullies. I never got — and still don’t — why some people get off on subjugating and humiliating others. I can’t get into the mindset, and still don’t have very good ideas about what to do about it. Though that disappears quickly when it involves my kids — I’d take on a rabid professional wrestler with a mace if they were going to hurt my boys.

    Anyway, re: hipping our kids to some of the nastiness out there, my impulse is just to keep it more general than specific, and let your little ones know that not everybody is nice. And when they come across someone who isn’t nice — someone who makes them feel scared or small — come talk to me. Go talk to your teacher. Come talk to me. Go talk to the principal. Come talk to me. Talk to your brother or sister. Just keep talking, and in case you didn’t get the message, come talk to me, and we’ll figure out a soluton together.

    I wish my dad would have done that just once. I was molested by two brothers a couple houses down — I think I was maybe 7 or 8, they were juniors or seniors in high school — and when my parents found out, my dad actually marched down and made a loud, humliating scene outside their house — yes, on the sidewalk, mid-summer, so everyone up and down the block got to hear all the details. That was bad.

    But worst of all, the display was just a way for him to blow off his anger over it. Nobody in my family ever spoke of it again after that, not a word at all to ME, hello, the person it happened to, and I think as a result I never processed it. I’m still kinda stuck there. It was so hard and shameful, and no matter how much I wanted to believe it wasn’t my fault, it still felt like it, and feeling that way, I could reach out to let my parents know it wasn’t all right with me, that I needed someone to unchain me from all that ick.

    Anyway, I pray to whatever’s out there that I never miss it when my kids take on something internally like that that they have no business taking on. Momo has a strong tendancy for it, so I watch him like a hawk. Just remember that kids can do that without telling you and, which means you can’t help them turn it loose. Scares the living hell out of me. Breaks my heart.

    But you communicate so well with your kids, Wacky Mommy — keep that going, and I think the rest will just follow. And keep those claws sharp, so you can disembowel any little miscreant that dares turn his or her attention towards your offspring. I know I won’t hesitate to rip the miscreants to shreds if they look at mine.

    June 12th, 2005 | #

  8. Tony Thomas says

    I loved Pixie Kitchen and Pixieland when I was little. My parents took me often. Although it’s gone, whenever I pull into Lincoln City, I still look for it. If you’d like to take a look, I just finished my Pixie Kitchen page at my website: http://www.romantic-oregon-coa.....tchen.html

    October 11th, 2006 | #

  9. Ryan Thompson says

    I first heard about Pixieland on NPR during a This American Life episode. I was born in 1982 and don’t remember it at all. I was wondering, anybody know what happened to the small locomotive they had there? I’ve seen it on the internet in photos and was curious. Also, I’ve been told the Pixie Kitchen was a seperate, unrelated business from Pixieland and the two were several miles apart. Plus the Pixie Kitchen building still exists and is part of an old folks home now?

    November 12th, 2006 | #

  10. Wacky Mommy says

    Ryan, I loved Pixieland and Pixie Kitchen! I would e-mail Tony Thomas and ask him more, or maybe post on Craig’s List to get more info.

    My dad’s favorite ride at Pixieland was the log flume; mine, as I’ve said here before, was the “haunted house” that you rode through in big pastel-colored teddy bear cars (my sister loved this ride, too); my mom’s favorite was the old-timey vaudeville/melodrama stage.

    As a kid I thought this was like the coolest thing ever, especially when they’d ask for audience participation and race around the seats causing a commotion.

    Pixie Kitchen was on Hiighway 101, in Lincoln City. Pixieland was north of Lincoln City. Here’s more (from pdxhistory.com — I think it was open longer than four years, though. My mom is certain she took us there in ’75 or ’76. Anyone remember more details?):

    “Pixieland closed within four years. The rides were sold and the buildings were torn down. The Log Flume Ride was sold in 1974 to Lagoon Amusement Park in Farmington, Utah where it still operates today. Risbergs Truck Line hauled off the Pixieland Steam Train – Little-Toot – and so ended Pixieland. No traces of Pixieland remain, the land was returned to wetlands. Trees and brush eventually grew over everything including the RV Park.”

    November 12th, 2006 | #

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