Lego Trip

 

As a boy I was the rare child who played with Legos. Most children my age found other uses for the little Danish blocks. Perhaps because a Danish ought to be edible, many preferred to eat them, while others enjoyed shoving them up their nostrils. 

 

Now for those unusual kids like me who built things, few did it with my understanding of history. They followed the directions. I did not. My connection to Legos was an unsubtle commentary on gentrification, architecture, and urban sprawl. I didn’t need to read The Power Broker because I had already built plenty of castle moats to fully appreciate the importance of boundaries. Plastic supremacy was something most children took for granted. Not I, understanding the short shrift given to wooden blocks. Remember when toy soldiers were made of lead? That sure raises the stakes for playtime.  

 

I came to learn about destruction and the strange joy in razing beautiful structures. Playing is a fraught word to use when discussing what I did with Legos. The trouble with play is that it implies fun. I never had fun in this context. I was too busy trying to become a better citizen, embracing my role in man altering a once pristine landscape. 

 

Kids shouldn’t play with toys, they use toys to practice becoming better activists. Whether a Lego brick, a plastic dinosaur, or a Barbie.