The apple tree in the backyard provided an excellent opportunity to learn the ways of capitalism; come the fall, I went door to door to sell our apples, and accumulated enough money to buy a set of building toys marketed as a replacement for Lego. I felt nervous about shifting paradigms, but the new stuff looked so cool.

It was a grave disappointment.

The Hiawatha wagon was sold by Gamble-Skogmo; the typeface mirrored the famous train's logo. They didn't get "Super" right, though; different font.

The door had cool slanting windows, which weren't very practical, and the veneer cracked and blistered, which caused my Mom no small amount of shame. The house number swung free, so it squeaked in the breeze; the mailbox had a heavy lid whose CLANK you could hear from the backyard when the mailman came and did not, as you hoped, deliver the thing for which you had sent away.