A little less than a week has gone by since Andy said another goodbye to his favorite childhood toy. When we left the high school that night, I thought all this reminiscing was over. As I've just discovered however, not quite.

I mentioned before that Andy joined the school newspaper after I recruited new writers for the sports section. I must say he's done a good job on the articles he's written, but I'm just the co-sports editor. Everyone can have their own opinions on the quality of our staff's work in the paper.

Writers and editors are not required to stay in one particular section all the time, so we can move around whenever we want to. After weeks of sportswriting, Andy decided to change pace for our last issue before we all went home for our holiday break. He offered to write an editorial in the opinion section, but he wasn't sure what to write it on. This took place at our staff meeting a week-and-a-half ago, a few days before we announced the football game together.

Since I had only been concentrating on putting together the sports section, even as I picked up copies of the paper for distribution this morning, I had no idea what Andy had written or even if he had written at all. His reunion with Woody must have given him some inspiration though. When I opened to the opinion section, I saw his article with the headline "Toys can bring back simpler times". Intrigued, I proceeded to read what he had put into words:

"Next time you're at home, go through your room, basement, attic or whatever and take a look at any childhood toys you may have left. You don't necessarily have to play with them; just look at them and hold onto them for a few seconds. See if anything comes back to you.

Now, this may sound silly preaching it to a bunch of college students and it probably is. After all, isn't college about moving forward and learning what we need to know to make it in the real world? Well yes, but you also have to remember who you once were or your life story isn't complete. I can say this from experience.

When I was a kid, I had many toys that I treated with a great amount of love. I can still remember the hours of playtime I had coming up with stories and adventures for my toys to partake in. It seemed like these good times would last forever. As we all know however, nothing does.

Kids love being kids, but they also love to grow up and I was no exception. As you all probably felt, getting older and growing up meant maturing and avoiding childish things. Accordingly, I played with my toys less and less until finally, I stopped playing with them altogether. Any toys I didn't get rid of one way or another stayed in my toy chest waiting for another playtime that would never come.

Just before I left for college, my mom told me to clean out my room, which meant whatever I wasn't taking with me would either be stored in the attic or thrown away. I initially decided to store my toys in the attic, but long story short, I followed a suggestion at the last minute to donate them to a little girl named Bonnie, who lived nearby instead. This was the day I left and though it was a good idea to give my toys a second chance to make a kid happy, it was hard for me to part with them, especially my cowboy Woody, who was my favorite for as long as I could remember. Just to have some closure, I played with them for one final time with their new owner, but even as I pulled away from the house, I still felt a bit emotional about the whole thing.

Maybe it was fate, but what happened last weekend helped me cope with this sense of loss a lot more. When I was finished announcing a high school football game for our radio station, my partner told me he had seen Bonnie with Woody and her mother in the stands earlier. I was able to catch up with the group and it was pleasant to see Bonnie and her mother, but having another chance to hold Woody in my hand and make him talk by pulling his string wiped away all doubt of whether I'd see him again. Once more, the memories came flowing back to me.

There are probably things from our childhoods we want to forget about, but we can't suppress those younger days completely. Remember that there's a little kid inside all of us that we need to unleash at certain times, such as those I just talked about. Whether or not you still have any of your old toys, at least recognize that they are, in some way, part of you still. The old photo I carry around of me with my toys is my reminder of just that."

I'm not one that cries a whole lot, but when I was finished reading this work of art, I wiped a tear from my eye even though Andy had told me a lot of what he wrote already. I was hoping that I wouldn't be the only one to feel moved by this. Fortunately, I wasn't.

When I see people around campus reading our paper the day we distribute it, I usually only see a few such instances here and there. This week was different though. Word about Andy's piece spread like wildfire and before long, it seemed like only a few people didn't have a copy of this week's paper in their hands, reading it intently. So many copies disappeared from the racks and other distribution places that I received an e-mail from our co-editor-in-chief saying that more of them had to be printed, which was unheard of.

I didn't see Andy all day, but I can see his piece has made him more recognizable on campus. It came across my Facebook wire that he was now friends with 40 new people. I hope they're not the wrong types of people, but if this doesn't erase any doubt that he'll make friends here, nothing will.

I'm glad to know Andy has made his mark here so suddenly and touched so much of the student body just by pouring out his feelings in a student publication. Like I said before, I see great things happening for him. If it takes his old toys to find inspiration for his work, so be it. I'm sure if his old Woody had thoughts of his own, he'd be very proud of his "favorite deputy" for looking to make his life as complete and meaningful as can be.