After a couple of years of staring up at the ceiling at The Toys That Time Forgot at least twice per visit and seeing him, waiting, I finally took the plunge this afternoon and brought him down off their ceiling and onto mine:

Perhaps having him and the memories associated – with him and the rest of his long-lost (and possessed of multiple broken legged/armed iterations of the figures of my youth; his "Power Action Punch" was relegated to barely a wave) – Super Power'ed ilk staring at me from his pristine, carded (not even punched!) and plastic-sealed place of honor above my desk will bring some of that magical playfulness of those formative years into whatever I'm hurling out of my fingers at the moment. Or perhaps not – but no matter: he's come home.