I know I need to post something, and I apologize to anyone that has already seen this.
I was thinking today about some of the posts I wrote years ago, (Yeah, I can’t believe it, I’ve been blogging for over three and a half years!) and I remembered this one, one of my all time favorites.
Without further ado, I present you: “Pogs”
I’ve always considered myself to be somewhat in the know in regards to cultural phenomenon. Throughout grade school I was always “in-tune” with what was “going-down” during recesses. High school was a bit more difficult but I think I can honestly say I was the fellow who led the pack. It has been the same throughout post-secondary as well; where do you think the Ugg boot fad came from?
As a result of my prestige in such matters, I feel it is my solemn duty to correct a wrong, to aid generation “find themselves,” to help an older generation re-discover their “inner child.”
In case you don’t yet know what I’m talking about, it’s POGs. Those small circular cardboard discs that defined, oh so many, generations of children. Anyone over sixteen can bring to mind many a story revolving around POGs.
When I flip through my photo albums and come across pictures from around grade 5, a little part of me dies inside because I see not only my jubilant smile on every page, but I recognize the angelic joy that characterized my childhood as a result of the time I spent with POGs.
It’s for no small reason that POG stands for “Pieces of Greatness”. And we’ve let these “toys of the gods” fall by the wayside. How can we stand idly by and let such a thing happen? Have we, as a generation, no morality, no sense of right or wrong?
My heart beats rapidly as I ponder the fate of the POG. Will the name “Pog” evoke memories of merriment, wonder, and mirth, or will it simply be remembered as a craze that vanished even more quickly than that of Sea Monkeys or Pet Rocks? I’m afraid that if this current apathy continues, our children’s lives will be in jeopardy. The foundational core of relationships is shared experience, and with no memory or knowledge of POGs how can we expect to connect to our children in any meaningful way?
Poggers Unite! For too long have we let this fun and entertaining sport languish, its memory fade, and slowly be replaced by imported games from Asia.
This Cultural Revolution is not without its naysayers. I was reminded of this just the other day when the following story was related to me. In some circles it has been considered “cool” to collect trading cards of popular TV shows, I know, forgive them for their foolishness. Occasionally POGs would be included in packages of these “trading cards” rather than praising their good fortune, these folks would be angered by this blessing. Obviously such fools will stop at nothing to halt the re-distribution of POGs into the mainstream.
We must continue the battle until we see the POG regain its rightful place on the shelves. Like the Rubiks Cube, we need to open our hearts to POGs and bring them back–how can we refuse after all that they’ve done for us?
Billy: “Boy, do I miss POGs.”
Peggy: “So do I, Billy.”
B: “Don’t you wish they made such classy pieces of cardboard today, Peggy?”
P: “I sure do, Billy.”
Around the world, similar conversations reverberate.
POGs: For the Children.”