Tuesday, March 13, 2012

A Lego Life (Slice 13)

I came across the black and white below a little earlier today, and saw the color image a few months ago. Both make me happy and nostalgic over how much my childhood was influenced by a very simple toy. It's a testament to my love that, despite my exhaustion and having just finished a length chat with a friend, I indeed to be a bit wordy here.

In short (haha), I learned much of what these ads describe: that I could create, could choose to follow directions or branch from them, could feel pride in my own creations, could play pretend with what I'd made. And Lego was one of the few things that Matt (my older-by-seven-years brother) and I could do together as kids without driving each other nuts--he would build things, I would play with them. His castle would be made with precision, using the special wall pieces and multiple floors. Mine would be made out of the traditional bricks, multi-colored and stocky, but I loved them anyway. There were no gas stations or space sets. All medieval, baby.

And we would splay out on the floor of his room and recreate Willow (I will hear no ill words of that movie--it is amazing), modified by his love of Piers Anthony books and twinges of my obsessions with The Swan Princess and Sleeping Beauty. And for some period of time--minutes or days, I couldn't say--we cohabitated and could have posed for an ad to fit right in with those below.

As I mentioned in posting "Peace" ad earlier today, it makes me a little sad that little (nothing?) is marketed this way anymore, and certainly not to kids. A sense of secret accomplishment? Quietness? What is this, Little House on the Prairie?? I love it. I love that we valued this once, enough to market product that way and see it pay off. And while I roll my eyes at Lego's revamping line, I look forward to sacking out on a floor one day with my nieces and nephews (Matt, apparently I've assigned you a large family--you and Karen better get cracking...), and I'll explain how you can make a second floor hallway end in a door to nowhere, sending intruders to the death dogs below.


  1. Love your slice! Isn't it funny how reading someone's post can remind you of other connections. My oldest son is a huge Piers Anthony fan and my youngest son still plays with Lego's even at 15 (although he might not openly admit it)! Thanks for sharing.

    1. Haha, thanks for the comment, Tracy! I, too, played--err, BUILT--with Legos far later than I might have admitted. I moved into Matt's room after he left for college, and on sick days, snow days, any days when I suspected no one would notice, out came the Rubbermaid boxes from under the bed... :)

  2. Aargh, let's try posting this for the third time...

    Since I'm re-upping my commitment to keep up with your blog, I figgered I'd better read this entry sooner rather than later, as its subject matter carried the greatest possibility of taking my name in vain. We'll keep you posted on the whole nieces-and-nephews thing. :)

    Oh, and what does it say about Piers Anthony that Xanth needs to be augmented by Willow (or t'other way 'round) in order to create a workable mixed-age play premise? :D