Me with my Talking Mother Goose, 1987.
My working title for this article, which has been collecting dust as an unpublished draft for many years, was something like, “How Toy A led to Interest B,” with a simple two-column chart listing toys on the left side and the things about me they influenced on the right.
Before I ever held a set of car keys, a paycheck, or a coffee mug, I held toys—bright, clunky, plastic treasures that seemed like nothing more than childhood distractions. But looking back, those toys weren’t just playthings; they were blueprints that shaped my interests, my skills, and even the way I see the world today.
Weebles Haunted House
Starting off with one of the greatest toys ever made, the Weebles Haunted House!
I have always been fascinated by ghosts and haunted house stories, and I like to think that this adorably spooky little manor with its crooked floorboards and “Beware of Ghost!” sign was the gentle, kid-friendly “push” I needed into the world of the supernatural.
Just looking at this photo brings back so many happy memories of sitting on the floor with a big pile of toys spread all around me, a mix of little plastic Cabbage Patch figurines, doll furniture, and of course Weebles, who wobbled but never fell down.
Long after I outgrew the Weebles themselves, this house remained a staple of my childhood play, always serving as the go-to “weird, old haunted house” that always factored into the silly stories me and my friends would make up. I didn’t even know how to play dolls without insisting there should be some haunted house subplot, as I would quickly grow bored of even the wildest romantic entanglements my friends could dream up for the main storyline, because how else were all the neighborhood children supposed to mysteriously go missing? The Weebles Haunted House, a toy meant for toddlers that was handed down to me when I was only three, was still going strong many years after I had officially out-grown it.
Now as an adult, I am constantly gravitating toward ghost-themed movies, shows, books, even podcasts. Stuff like The Changeling, The Others, The Lady in White, and one of my favorite obscure made-for-TV Disney movies from childhood, The Child of Glass. These are just a few examples of many, but if there is any kind of spooky old mansion involved, I’m all in.
To this day the Weebles Haunted House is the first image that pops into my head whenever I think of haunted houses, the way you might see an illustration of an Apple to describe the letter “A”. If you were playing Pictionary and had to draw a haunted house, something that looks like this Weebles toy is exactly what you’d draw.
TYCO Typewriter Baby Toy
This silly TOMY typewriter baby toy is proof that my fascination with typewriters began at an early age. This thing has survived for over 40 years, important enough that my parents thought well enough to put it aside and keep it in a box for me.
It consists of only three buttons, but I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to punch them down and make the internal bell go “ding!” as the little matching hammers fly up. Turning the knobs on either end to reveal a new word (Apples, Bears or Cats!) emits a ratcheting crank-like noise that I can still hear perfectly in my head. How I loved it so!
In a way, baby toys are a reflection of our parents, too. My mom, for example, was a secretary for most of her life, highly skilled in typing, dictation and writing in shorthand. I can absolutely understand why she picked this particular toy for me, it being a “cute” version of something commonplace in her world. I look back at the baby toys I chose to buy for my own kids and see a similar pattern: a toy Gameboy, Polaroid Camera, Record Player and Boombox, all made by Fisher Price. Intentional or not, we influence our children through the toys we buy them. We buy them the things we would play with. I suppose it was inevitable that I be destined for a career in corporate America.
Now, I cannot write about my beloved typewriter toy without also mentioning another big hit from this era — Sesame Street Typewrite Guy! I would always get so excited whenever I’d see him wheel into frame, using his own body to type the things he observed. Sometimes I would even get my toy typewriter out and “type” along with him, creating a sense memory feedback loop that is deeply ingrained within my psyche to this very day.
Grandma’s house is where I did most of my Sesame Street watching in those formative years, and this toy was one of the few that my parents kept there permanently for me to play with. Once I started to get a little older, my fascination naturally turned to real typewriters, and Grandma’s house never disappoints.
Sitting on a little desk in her spare bedroom was this bad boy, the Underwood Rhythm Touch De Luxe model from 1949 (which I wrote about in more detail here).
It is one of the few surviving items that I kept after her death, which is now displayed proudly in my home. Just looking at it and running my fingers over its solid metal keys instantly transports me back in time, to those long days at Grandma’s house when I would sit and type for hours, endlessly fascinated how I could make words appear before me just by pressing down keys. I would find an excuse to type anything, even if there wasn’t really a reason to, everything from lists of my favorite things to making up short stories.
Writing on a typewriter is a full sensory experience and it’s one I’ve been chasing my entire life. Just hearing the clickety-clack of those keys has the power to instantly inspire me to want to write. In my modern adult life, this has manifested as an obsession with mechanical keyboards, as well as any app, device or solution that promises typewriter-like distraction-free writing. Making words appear on paper (or screens) from nothing has always felt like pure magic to me, sparking a lifelong love for writing.
Lite-Brite
I have always loved the Lite-Brite. There’s something so simple yet magical to the concept of creating pictures with tiny colored pegs of light. How they glowed so beautifully in those iconic Lite-Brite colors of red, blue, green, yellow, orange, pink, violet, and clear. That box art is iconic, with promises of letting you live out your wildest creative fantasies (assuming your wildest creative fantasies could be depicted using only eight colors).
Even as I type this, there is a Stranger Things edition Lite-Brite sitting on my desk which currently spells out the greeting, “Sup?”
How do I even begin to explain how meta it is that an 80s toy featured in a popular show set in the 80s but isn’t actually from the 80s has created its own version of said 80s toy? Just more evidence that Lite-Brite was one of the defining toys of my generation. Whether you were a perfectionist who stuck to the templated patterns printed on the black paper, or more of a visionary who liked to freestyle it, Lite-Brite let you express yourself in ways that no other toy could.
It is my belief that all that time spent creating pictures on my Lite-Brite screen ignited my interest in graphic design, except now I create graphics with pixels instead of pegs. Lite-Brite taught me that complex images you see on screens are really nothing more than just a series of colored dots, when you really break it down. Even something as rudimentary as the Nintendo Entertainment System’s simple 8-bit graphics feel sophisticated when compared to a grid of 1,735 holes. The Lite-Brite taught us to design carefully; to plan ahead and conserve resources, because you never knew if your picture of a sailboat was going to actually fit, let alone have enough of the right-colored pegs to finish the job. Web design is a lot like what I just described.
Read-along Adventure Books
Like many in my generation, my first “boombox” was the iconic if not-very-creatively-named Fisher Price Tape Recorder. And on this nearly indestructible hunk of brown and tan plastic I would play my small library of Read-along Adventure Books.
Read-along Adventure Books, as every 80s kid knows, are a series of children’s story books that came packaged with a cassette tape (or perhaps a vinyl record, if you’re more of a 70s kid) that would narrate the story as you followed along on the pages. At certain points a signal sound (often a chip, beep, or character voice) would prompt the listener (that’s me!) to turn the page.
Me listening to my Fisher Price Tape Recorder while I play in the sandbox that my dad built.
The stories were often based on popular action/adventure movies, TV shows or franchises (think Star Wars, Indiana Jones, E.T., etc.), or borrowed from popular children’s books and cartoons (The Berenstain Bears, Strawberry Shortcake). Sometimes they were even educational, offering a fun way to read things you might learn about in school, like American Indians or Davy Crockett.
The Berenstain Bears and the Spooky Old Tree is one of my all-time favorites:
Some of my happiest childhood toy memories were spent sprawled on the floor of my family’s living room, staring off into space as my Fisher Price Tape Recorder transported me to other worlds. Each page was steeped in anticipation, just waiting to be turned at the sound of the magic chime. The 80s were full of flashy electronic learning toys, but I submit the humble Read-a-long book, with its combination of soundscapes and simple pictures, could ignite a child’s imagination like no other. Similarly, I just adored my Talking Mother Goose toy, which can be seen at the top of this post.
As an adult, I still love my stories, except these days I call them podcasts and I can listen to them anywhere. I especially enjoy short horror story podcasts, as well as serial fiction told over a number of episodes. Over the years I have listened and subscribed to a lot of podcasts, and even co-host one with my husband and our friend Pax. Podcasts have really exploded since the early days, but back then I like to believe that an entire generation of 70s and 80s kids were fully primed to embrace podcasts as an exciting new medium, thanks to having grown up with Read-a-long Adventure Books.
Though I’ve outgrown the need to have my stories accompanied by lots of pretty pictures (and that oh-so satisfying chime sound!) I will never outgrow the need to cozy up with a good story that I can listen to as I lay in the dark, letting my imagination wander.
Fisher Price Little People Castle
For many, many reasons that are beyond the scope of this article, my grandmother’s house in the 1980s was an endless menagerie of wonders. Both of my parents worked during the day, so off to Grandma’s I would go. This was before I officially started school, leaving a wide window of time for an imaginative kid like me to play, explore, and invent new ways to keep myself entertained.
Grandma’s basement in particular was a treasure trove of vintage toys, as she had amassed quite the collection from previous generations by the time I came along. In her basement rec room, with its shag carpet and wood-panelled walls, you could find such treasures as vintage Barbie dolls that belong to my mom and her sisters, board games such as Twixt and the The Six Million Dollar Man, tin cans full of Tiddlywinks, electronic football, and more. But the piece de resistance was this Fisher Price Castle set that belonged to my youngest aunt when she was a little girl.
I cannot adequately describe the joy I feel just looking at this photo, remembering those long stretches of time spent playing on that shag rug, making up fantastic stories about knights and fair princesses. I especially loved the little Robin Hood-like woodsman character all dressed in green with his dapper mustache, because he reminded me of my dad. My grandmother’s Fisher Price Castle set looked a lot like the one in this photo I sourced from eBay, with its faded paper stonework and little fuzzy beds that someone long before me had scraped bare. I can remember feeling bad for the poor Knight, who didn’t have his own bed to sleep in, and thinking how brave he must be to fight such a fearsome hot pink dragon all alone. I especially loved staring at the little round plastic banquet table with its sticker depicting a feast fit for a King—steak, fruits and vegetables, and what I can only assume are goblets of wine.
This toy was EVERYTHING to me. Because of it, I’ve always felt drawn to the fantasy realm, finding joy in any story that involves castles, knights, and royal intrigue. This playset equipped young me with a basic framework that provided everything I needed in order to understand and relate to those stories, complete with dungeons and trapdoors and secret passages. During my 80s childhood I really leaned into fantasy films like Labyrinth, Legend, and Dragonslayer to name a few, which has evolved into more practical interests such as historical castles and Arthurian legend. I am still very much into knights and dragons, being a fan of shows like Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, The Rings of Power, and many others.
I can’t help but smile whenever I think of this castle and that little flag waving jauntily upon its spring, knowing where it all started.
Pocket Rockers
Pocket Rockers (which I collect and have written about here) were one of the raddest music-toys to come out of the 1980s.
Made by Fisher-Price, Pocket Rockers are basically palm-sized tape players that you can take with you on the go, and play a variety of two-song mini cassette tapes that were specifically made for the toy.
The Pocket Rockers library of collectible mini tapes featured a range of Top 40s hits and popular artists of the day, like Tiffany and The Bangles. But there were also oldies like The Beach Boys, as well as a subsection of generic hits by “soundalike” artists, I guess because they couldn’t always secure the rights.
Pocket Rockers mini cassette tapes could be worn like accessories on your outfit, so you could express your love for The Fat Boys or whatever to all your friends at school. The Pocket Rockers player itself features a handy wrist strap, meant for taking along on all your adventures. I have vivid memories of hanging mine off one of the handlebars of my bike so I could cruise the mean streets of my neighborhood with my 80s tunes blasting, feeling like the coolest kid in town.
If your parents were anything like mine, they were not wasting their hard-earned money on expensive vinyls and cassette tapes for a kid whose entire taste in music revolved around The California Raisins. But sell them tiny, kid-friendly tapes that can be clipped to a belt? Now there’s an idea that prints money! Before things like Columbia House came along, Pocket Rockers were my first real foray into collecting music. I was in the exact right target demographic for this toy, so desperate to have a music collection of my very own, just like my big sister with all of her cassette tapes. Sure, Pocket Rockers tapes could only play two songs each, but I didn’t care. Belinda Carlisle’s “Heaven is a Place on Earth” never sounded so good as it did on that tinny little hot pink and black plastic speaker.
Fast forward to today, I am very much an avid lover and collector of music of all kinds. I’m not saying that if it weren’t for Pocket Rockers I’d never get into music, which would be ridiculous, of course. But I am suggesting that Pocket Rockers ignited something deep inside of me that combines my love for music, collecting, and sharing my discoveries with friends. Encapsulate all of that into a music toy with the raddest 80s aesthetic you’ve ever seen? Fisher Price knew what they were doing.
Muppet Babies Keyboard
If you know me, you know I have an obsession with vintage keyboards, which I avidly collect. My favorite ones are even hanging on the wall just next to me as I type this, proudly displaying my love for all things synthy and awesome. This Muppet Babies keyboard from 1987 has a lot to do with that, being one of the earliest musical toys I can remember having.
It was made by Casio, a legitimate maker of musical instruments, which in my young mind somehow elevated this thing to rock concert stage-worthy status. My older sister also had a pink Casio PT-1, which we’d constantly fight over. I suspect my parents were just tired of hearing us bicker, and so giving me this keyboard was their solution to making it stop.
Little did they know it would ignite a passion that would lead to many more keyboard purchases, as I began to want newer, better keyboards I would end up asking for birthdays and adding to my Christmas lists. Over the years I have owned many keyboards, some small enough to fit in my pocket, others full-sized 81 key affairs large enough to require a separate piece of furniture to support.
When I was about 10 or so, my parents invested in an upright piano that can still be found in their living room to this day. I’d love to be able to say they bought it specifically for me, clearly recognizing the hints of musical genius they’d hear pouring out of my tiny, keyboard speakers, but it was actually purchased for my older sister to get piano lessons. Either that, or my mom just really wanted an excuse to buy a big piece of furniture that was expensive and classy-looking. How else was she going to create enough surface-space to display all her photos? You can probably tell I’m still a little salty about it.
And so on Saturdays the piano teacher would come over to our house and give lessons, but not to me. I can still hear my sister practicing those damn scales, playing the same tired beginner songs like Fur Elise over and over. As for me, I could be found just upstairs playing on my humble collection of Casio and Yamaha keyboards, teaching myself songs like Somewhere Out There, The Neverending Story, and other songs from my favorite movies. I have never formally had any musical education apart from what little was taught to me in music class, but I have developed a weird ability to play music by ear; picking songs out note-by-note, and learning how to find the right combination of keys that make up the correct chords. Practicing the same songs over and over again until it sounds halfway decent, like I actually know what I’m doing, all without being able to read a single note of music. This is my superpower.
A few years ago, I finally saved up enough to buy my dream digital piano, a Roland CG-1, which features proudly as the showpiece of my living room. There is nothing I enjoy more than sitting down at that piano, when the mood strikes, and just going to town, filling my home with wonderful sounds.
As for my sister—she still can’t play piano for shit.
Clue VCR Mystery Game
My love for the Clue VCR Mystery Game might be hard to understand if you didn’t experience it the way I did.
I’ve talked a lot in this post about my grandma’s house, and this was one of the board games she had that most captivated me. More specifically, I was captivated by the VHS tape.
Just hearing that creepy harpsichord and thunderstorm in the opening scene instantly gives me all the feels.
Launched by Parker Brothers in 1985, the game came in a big box that contained a regular Clue-style board, cards, tokens, and a VHS tape. It was marketed as a more immersive, cinematic version of the original. All the familiar characters from the original Clue game are present, along with a helpful butler named “Didit” (get it?) who teaches you how to play the game and solve the mystery.
I am fairly certain kids who were born after the 80s would see this mini movie for the silly, campy cheesefest that it is, but to me it all felt so real, and it was the most exciting thing in the world. Me, my older sister, and my cousins watched this tape so much we wore it out on grandma’s shitty, off-brand VCR. Whenever there were holiday gatherings, it was the first thing us kids all wanted to watch, and it inspired so many of our adventures around the house.
One of our favorite things to do as a group was to “play Clue,” a game where we’d each adopt one of the character’s names and personas, and go on scavenger hunts around the house to find clues to solve the murder. My older cousin Rick would dream up these elaborate scenarios for us to play through (I should mention he was really into D&D and could tell good stories), assigning us names, titles (I was usually Mrs. White, for some reason), and writing little notes that led us on wild searches all over Grandma’s house and property.
It may sound silly, but those days spent playing Clue with my cousins live in my memory as one of the ultimate thrills I’ve ever experienced during playtime. I was invested in those made-up murder mysteries, feeling like I was acting in a real movie. Sometimes Rick would even get one of the adults to be in on it, and the game would require me and my cousin Megan to go consult one of them for clues, or we’d have to listen to them tell us some scripted backstory he provided them in order to advance. It was so much fun.
Now, as an adult, I long for any type of experience that even comes close to re-creating the magic that was made at grandma’s house playing Clue. This has taken the form of a combination of things, such as point-and-click adventure games, b-horror movies with terrible acting, and love of murder mysteries. None of it quite hits the spot the way those silly games did, but Clue: The VCR Mystery Game unlocked something deep inside me that I am forever chasing.
Bonus Toy: My Tubby Turtle
Clearly, my love for all things turtle-related started at a very early age!
