Pickle Barrel
WHEN I WAS a little girl in the early ’70s, my favourite television show was Family Affair. The plot was your basic fish out of water theme: a high - flutin’ New York bachelor–business man attempts to raise his brother’s three orphaned kids in a swanky New York apartment, with a stuffy British butler. Let the comedy ensue. The little girl on Family Affair dragged around an odd-looking doll everywhere she went. Her name was Mrs. Beasley. She wasn’t your typical doll. She wore a blue polkadot house frock, sported a yellow brassy hairdo and had removable black spectacles, which attached to her perpetually smiling hard plastic face. Mrs. Beasley was more nanny than doll, and when you pulled her drawstring, her raspy grandma voice would spew out pearls of wisdom like, “I do think you are the nicest little friend I’ve ever had,” and “Gracious me, you are getting to be such a big girl!” She became the must-have doll for every girl at that time, and I was no exception.
I remember the day I got her. My mom and I walked to Woolworth’s, where I laid eyes on her for the very first time. It was love at first sight, and before my mom completed the transaction, Mrs. Beasley had made her way out of her package and into my arms. From then on, “The Beez” and I were inseparable. She became my best friend and confidant, and the best part was that she actually talked back to me — albeit with prerecorded one liners.
At the time, Mrs. Beasley was a state-of-the-art toy, and I had no idea what made her tick until one fateful day, two years later, when I discovered her remains strewn across my floor. Her tiny body was unrecognizable, save for a lone voice box dangling from my dog Sascha’s mouth. I could hear her final words as they played on a distorted loop from my dog’s clenched jaw: “…Long ago I was a little girl just like you.” That image was the ultimate emotional trifecta scar in my formative years: lost love, witnessing horrible carnage and complete techno failure — all at once.
My son has grown up with techno toys all his life, from his preschool days of Tickle Me Elmo to his current iPod, PSP, Xbox 360 electronic extravaganza. His knowledge of gadgets far exceeds mine and deciphering his holiday toy list usually requires a team of “geek squad” experts. But after years of explanations from Best Buy employees about what these toys actually do, I discovered my own theory: Everything old is new again (with a twist).
Almost all of today’s toys find their origins in the low-tech toys of my generation. Take, for instance, Merlin the Electronic Wizard. You could play Tic-Tac-Toe Music Machine, Echo, Blackjack 13 and Mindbender on a mock touch-tone phone in 1978! A NASA engineer developed the game, and although it seems rudimentary now, today’s cellphones and hand-held games might not even have existed without good ol’ Merlin.
Electronic Quarterback was on my “must-have list” back in the day (I became a tomboy after Mrs. Beasley’s untimely demise). Tiny blinking dots represented players on the field, and the sound of a ticking clock’s countdown kept the intensity of the competition real. This holiday season’s hot sports game is Madden NFL ’09. It’s a realistic depiction of an actual NFL game complete with accurate player likenesses and John Madden’s own voice as commentator.
Even the classic Easy Bake Oven, with its light bulb technology that cooked a tiny cake in just under three hours, has been perfected with modern technology. The Girls Gourmet Cupcake Maker cooks your confectionary items in just 30 seconds by using a tiny microwave.
My friends and I used to spend countless hours playing Milton Bradley board games at our neighbour’s. Games can now be played on interactive DVDs, and with the advent of online gaming, kids don’t even have to leave the couch to play with their buddies across the street. Gaming systems also have accompanying headsets, which allow your child to talk to complete strangers across the globe (a practice banned in our household!).
Maybe the Commodore 64 did make way for the iMac, who knows. But I do know it would be a shame if some standard toys from back in my day didn’t stick around. I am heartbroken that the words “pop-omatic trouble” aren’t a part of my kid’s vernacular. Whether they are low or high tech, toys have a huge impact on our childhood memories. They help us discover different parts of ourselves and ultimately help mould who we will become.
Almost 30 years after the demise
of my original Mrs. Beasley, I came
across a replica doll in a specialty
shop window downtown. My heart
skipped a beat, and I was
transported back to the moment I
first met my best friend. I paid the
cashier the overpriced amount,
ripped the package open and held
Mrs. Beasley in my arms again. “The
Beez” now sits in my office in a chair
in the corner. My son thinks she is
creepy, but I adore her. And every
once in a while when I need a pearl of
wisdom from my old friend, I just pull
her string and am reminded that she
thinks I am “the nicest little friend”
she’s ever had. 
Post City Magazines’ resident low-tech mom, Jack Hourigan, is the host of Slice Network’s Three Takes and a freelance writer living in Toronto.
The Fine Print: The contents of www.postcitymagazines.com are copyright 2009, all rights reserved, and may not be reproduced in part or in whole without written permission of the Publisher.
