I don’t like getting older, necessarily, but the beauty of it is that it’s happening, whether I like it or not. Might as well relax into it. So, what does one do as one’s “twilight” approaches? One reminisces about “what made them cool back in the day.”
Nostalgia for children of the 1980s leads automatically to all the cool tchotchkes and fads that defined what cultural historians would eventually call the “Me Generation.” I’m sure it does for children of any decade, but I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about me, us.
And, really, can we be honest, here?, children of the 80s had the coolest stuff. We discovered the addiction of electronic gadgets, for crying out loud. Mothers gave up mothering for careers, Carter gave way to Reagan, and cable news gave everything else away. We had no choice but to break the mold, and make our own way in the 80s. And we spent the 90s letting everybody know it.
We were latch-key children tired of board games; we gave up playgrounds for Ataris.
Besides, what did kids in the 50s and 60s have, anyway? Toy bomb shelters? And kids of the 70s, had, like, what, daisy chains and headbands? Were there even children in the 1940s? (I’m pretty sure children weren’t invented until after World War II).
So, I mean. Come on: we invented the computer.
We kickstarted the Handheld Revolution. Before there iPhones, there were calculator watches. Angry Birds? Please, try Berzerk or Frogger. Gameboy, no thanks. We had Simon, and he loved us.
The problem, the real problem, came when education and 1980s trends collided. The first time I ever got in trouble at school, that time I pushed Chris Brannon into a mud puddle notwithstanding, came from my calculator watch with the puffy buttons. I wasn’t actually using it, but I had no idea how to turn the alarm off. I also didn’t set the alarm; it came already programmed into the watch.
There was a learning curve, you could say.
I bet Mrs. Sinclair still has it, tucked away in her desk drawer. Maybe I’ll ask for it back. It’s probably worth something, by now.
Oh, and what about slap bracelets, the trend that kept a toe in the 80s and 90s? Remember those? They lasted about a day in fifth grade. Strangely, they weren’t considered a weapon, as most of the people who hurt themselves were the ones who owned the bracelets. It was a bit S&M, I think, all the kids sitting in their desks, slapping their wrists, again and again.
I bet Mrs. Sinclair still has my slap bracelet, too. Were they really just a cry for help?
I lost my Transformers Autobot Radio Communicator in a bet with Clay that he couldn’t hang upside down on the monkey bars as long as I could. Why on earth a nerdy boy with glasses thought he could beat a boy who was born with a rifle in his mouth at hanging upside down is beyond me.
I bet he took it to school and Mrs. Sinclair confiscated it. God, she’s probably got half my childhood in that desk drawer.
I lost most of the 80s. I mean, if we measure it by toys. My Pound Puppies starved to death. I only vaguely remember Verbot, though I managed to hold onto the remote control, so I don’t know how much good he did to whoever ended up with him. (That is, if he was stolen, and I’m going to say that he was). I fared a little better with my Star Wars figurines, but that was then; God only knows where they are now. I sold my Speak and Spell at a garage sell, and to be honest, my Tiger Skeet Shoot wasn’t even mine. I stole it from my cousin, Michael.
Don’t tell him.
Anyway, things come and go, right? It happens. And after awhile, you get used to it. I was. Until, a few weeks ago, going through a closet of old, forgotten boxes. My niece was helping me. We pulled a few out, down from the shelves, and curiosity got the better of us. We opened one of the boxes and inside was half of an orange neon Hit Stix set.
I tried to explain to her what it was.
Her comment, “That’s so…old…that’s, what do they say, that’s vintage.”
I took in a sharp breath, and thought, Wow, that’s what I am, I’m vintage.
I let the breath out, and said, “Yeah. Yeah.”
But, I told her…the game ain’t over, yet.