I was doing some shopping in a department store and came across an aisle of childhood nostalgia. I realize that going to a physical store is a bit of a throwback in itself these days. When someone says they’re going shopping, it more often than not means opening the laptop and surfing the net.
But there I was, face to face with Toyland. You know, childhood’s mystical joy land or so the song says. I like wandering the toy aisle not just for the feeling of being a kid again, but for remembering what it was like shopping with and for my children when they were little. Usually, it’s a great feeling, but not this time. There on the endcap was an old nemesis: the Rubix Cube!
I received one at Christmas many years ago, and it became the bane of my existence. No matter what I did, I couldn’t solve it. I would twist and turn for hours to no avail. Then leave it on the desk in my room in plain view so it would have no trouble mocking me. Were they truthful in marketing this thing, the commercials would have gone something like this:
“Got someone on your list you really want to drive nuts? Give them the gift that keeps on giving. Give them the gift of endless hours of frustration sure to lower their self esteem. It’s the Rubix Cube.” It’s the modern day equivalent to getting a lump of coal in your stocking. Hmmm…I must have been on the naughty list that year…again.
They did publish a book that listed instructions on how to solve the puzzle no matter how messed up it might be. I read it. I followed the instructions. I still couldn’t solve it. It was like reading a mystery novel, and, just as you get to the part where they tell you who done it, you realize the last chapter is missing.
They have updated the Rubix Cube concept. Now you can get one that is two-by-two. I guess this is so toddlers can get a taste of failure early in life. They also have one that is four-by-four. Wait. What? Who ordered a Rubix Cube and asked if they could super size it?
The Rubix Cube wasn’t the first toy bent on reminding me of my inadequacies. Oh, no. The Etch-a-Sketch was quite good at that. I ask you, has anyone drawn anything other than stairs or a box with an Etch-a-Sketch? I say, no. I’m sure there were arguments that it built hand-eye coordination. I’ll agree with that. I did get quite good at throwing it across the room into the toy bin. This little torture device posing as a toy is a great example of building something because you can. It’s like an extension cord without a plug on either end.
I suppose part of my dislike for these “toys” comes from having a brother eight years my senior who loved to tease me. Typical stuff I suppose. But I didn’t need to have toys to fill that gap when he wasn’t around.
Then there was the Erector Set. I have to admit I didn’t know they still made them, but they do and they are better than ever. Now they come with motors and such so you can make your creations move. I’m sure they are inspiring many young folks to get into robotics and such. My Erector Set taught me some great lessons as well.
I learned that you can never find the tool you need when you need it. No matter how many nuts and bolts you have, you’ll always be one short of what you need and the store won’t have the exact same size in stock. If you have a child who might grow up and own a boat, the Erector Set will prepare them well for what they will face as an adult.
This toy for budding engineers also was education for my parents. They learned that I would never be handy around the house and, therefore, potentially have trouble attracting a mate. I’m sure that’s why they gave me piano lessons and bought me a trumpet. Chicks dig musicians. Then they heard me play, but by that time it was out of their hands.
By the way, I finally solved the Rubix Cube albeit in a rather unconventional way. Turns out the little cubes are snapped to a central hub. While I couldn’t figure out how to twist it back into place, I was smart enough to know that if it was snapped together it could be snapped apart. So that’s what I did and then reassembled it in the proper order. Puzzle solved. Guess it did spark some creative thinking.
Okay, I can’t lie. I didn’t originally take it apart with the thought of putting it back together in order. I ripped it apart in an attempt to wipe that smug little smile off its multi-colored face. In trying to kill the cube, I found a way to solve it. Every silver lining has a grey cloud attached.
