the power of plastic

‘wildlife treasury cards’ came up in conversation today.

http://www.atlaspicturecards.com/Wildlife_Treasury_Cards.html

remember those? chances are, most 25-35 year olds (or so) recall the green plastic box and the animal photo-and-info cards that came in the mail – a bundle wrapped in plastic that i always wished was larger – every month or so. they were fascinating to me, the geek child. i read the cards and studied the pictures, absorbing the information like an antsy child in need of distraction. ohwait. . .

so, i reached out to a few friends, to question them about their recollection of these cards. brian had a second-hand set, and clearly remembers keeping gumby in the box, for reasons unknown. adam said he used to keep his stash of random and stale cigarettes in that box when he was 13 (he’s smoke them out the window in the attic when he thought nobody would notice). my sister, kate, and james all recalled them. we all had clear memories of the cards, the box, the packaging. i realized i had struck on something important.

the things that are said to define generations are major, traumatic, important. global. the sort of things that you don’t really understand until you grow up and look back — wars, presidents, headline news — it’s all above a head that’s only three feet off the ground. being aware of a world outside of our immediate lives doesn’t come early or easily. but the the things that imprint themselves in our minds are not what the magazines and textbooks remember.

what defines us, what unites us and keeps us laughing, even over beers in our late 20’s, are the smallest things. the cereal commercials, the trendy clothes, the stuffed animals. the magazine subscriptions and the lunchtime snacks. we are what we lived, our memories lie locked within juice boxes and toy chests. we recall the warmth of innocence in bright plastic colors, in blocks that always fit together and dolls with perfect figures. a simple shared happy memory of a toy or a fast food commercial speaks volumes and oozes with comfort. we are the collected details of the lives we’ve lived, a sum of the bits and the way we each see the world.

i guess it’s all about perspective. at what point did politics become important to you? when did you notice and care about career success, environmental issues, war? is it any wonder that the stuff that really matters gets discussed at bars at two a.m.?

‘hey, man, remember the snorks?’