The treasures of a 1980s child

About a year ago, I began a treasure hunt, not the sort with pirates or X's on maps or WMDs, but an expedition to be sure. This treasure hunt, complete with Lincoln Log jungles and Care Bear-infested forests, was a voyage into my 1980s childhood.

Like a bad VH-1 special, one summer day, fording many a cobweb and ancient Time issue, I uncovered my stash: a musty trunk containing a cache of some of the most fabulous and infamous toys from the decade of Reagan, Top Gun and Milli-Vanilli. 



Atop the trunk of loot sat possibly the most notorious piece of '80s memorabilia, the Rubik's cube. Created by Erno Rubik -- who soon became the richest private citizen in communist Hungary -- as a teaching aid for children, the fascinating and ultimately infuriating six-colored cube sold 4 million in 1980 alone. Deemed by some as the world's best-selling toy, analysts estimate the total number of cubes, including the unauthorized copies, exceeds 100 million.  



An anonymous group of Lander Hall stoners and Rubik's cube fans say the cubes can be purchased at both Archie McPhee in Ballard and Urban Outfitters on Broadway and downtown.



A little farther down resided the resting place of the Koosh Ball, the anemone-like sensation of 1988. Filled with jelly-like plasma and an exterior consisting of hundreds of soft rubber spikes, Koosh Balls offered a solution to every parent's fears. The ball could be thrown indoors without causing too much damage.



 Ironically, it was estimated that 40 pecent of the toys were purchased for adults to play with. The perfect means to annoy but not injure your roommate, Koosh Balls may be procured at most Toys R' Us locations.



 Toward the bottom of the trunk, I am embarrassed to admit, lay my substantial collection of technicolor hacky-sacks. I realize for many individuals, hacky-sacks are nowhere near a thing of the past, and it only takes a stroll through Red Square on a sunny day to prove it. In the 1980s, if you were coordinated enough to kick a bean bag, but too wimpy to be a jock, hacky-sack was your sport.



And as any Phish fan will tell you, hacky-sacks are still available at many world-import stores, including Cost Plus World Market downtown.



Finally, wedged between an emptied version of Pretty, Pretty Princess and a half-broken hula-hoop, stood my very own Ghetto Blaster. 



Though Sony introduced the first walkman in 1979, allowing individuals to listen to music privately, the innovation was promptly reversed the following year with the advent of the boom-box. Surely the noisiest (and to some, the most annoying) fad of all time, these portable stereos on steroids consumed as many as 10 "D" batteries in a single afternoon. 



If serious irritation of the geriatric crowd was your aim, the magical button labeled "bass boost" needed only be pressed to ensure even your most distant and hard-of-hearing relatives (at least) felt the beat of the latest Kris Kross record.



Boom-boxes continue to sell briskly and some models even morphed to support MP3 players. Retro and original models can be easily purchased on eBay.



Though the magical chest of retro-delights still stands in the same musty corner of my family's garage, it remains a time capsule of my youth. Hopefully, someday I'll be able to find what I was truly looking for: my Skip-It.