I’ve loved playing Krazy Ikes in the ‘50s. Similar to the game Cooties (which I also still have), I always thought it was manufactured and marketed during that era with President Eisenhower’s nickname and bald head in mind. In fact, I thought so until this writing, when I looked it up and found out it was first manufactured in the ‘30s!
It’s one of those (hopefully!) once-in-a-lifetime moments where you remember where you were and what you were doing when something happened.
I liked Ike, but only because he reminded me of my sweet Uncle Ernie with his own bald head. And after all, I was only a kid when Eisenhower was president. Even though ours was not a politically-minded family, we leaned toward the left. And then came A Time for Greatness. I loved JFK, for all the obvious reasons and, like most of you, am still haunted by his assassination, and those that followed.
But it’s the ghost of the 2016 election that not only haunts me but still prevents me from getting a good night’s sleep. It’s one of those (hopefully!) once-in-a-lifetime moments where you remember where you were and what you were doing when something happened. I’ll never forget watching the news and the slow dawning that we were in trouble. Having been watching the returns for hours, I was now in the kitchen puttering while looking through the pass-thru at the TV in the living room. I’m sure my brow was furrowed, my mouth agape. Wait a minute. Did I miss something? What? This can’t be. This CAN’T be! THIS CAN’T BE!! But it was. Waking up in the morning, it wasn’t a dream; it wasn’t even a nightmare. It was true. This reality show hack, this has-been, this amoral, ignorant, lying, misogynistic buffoon was now in charge of the country, and he wasted no time laying waste to it. And not just him; his cohorts in crime as well. And we can’t stop them? How can this be our country? For days, weeks, months, and now years I walked around dazed and confused. Things have only become darker and darker until it’s hard to see, even in the light. Yeah, I’m haunted all right.
May Joe Biden Restore the Soul of America. May we once again have a President we respect and believe, a First Lady we respect and believe, a Vice President we respect and believe. May there be a blue landslide on Tuesday night so massive there’s no question that when we wake up Wednesday morning, it will be to a new reality.
In the meantime, I think I’ll just go play with my Krazy Ikes and dream of what were, for me at least, simpler times. And yes, of course, VOTE!
Note: I’m not a fan of Halloween but enjoy going to Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebrations down in Santa Ana this time of year, and of course there are none to be found. So, just to keep the spirit alive, it’s scary me for a week.
Barbara BucklesArtist, writer, storyteller, spy. Okay, not a spy…I was just going for the rhythm.
I call myself “an inveterate dabbler.” (And my husband calls me “an invertebrate babbler.”) I just love to create one way or another. My latest passion is telling true stories live, on stage. Because it scares the hell out of me.
As a memoirist, I focus on the undercurrents. Drawing from memory, diaries, notes, letters and photographs, I never ever lie, but I do claim creative license when fleshing out actual events in order to enhance the literary quality, i.e., what I might have been wearing, what might have been on the table, what season it might have been. By virtue of its genre, memoir also adds a patina of introspection and insight that most probably did not exist in real time.
I echo your wish and dream your dream, Barb.
The waiting is almost unbearable at this point, isn’t it?
Amen Barb. It can’t possibly happen again — I hope! I’m too anxious to contemplate that possibility.
I hear you, Laurie.
Thanx Bebe (really no thanx!) for the reminder of that horrid morning after.
I just commented on Suzy’s story remembering that jubilant night dancing with a friend on line as we waited to vote. And then hours later our disbelief as the election returns came in. And the next day the somber New York streets, and on the bus staring at a stranger and without a word, both of us opening our palms toward each other in supplication..
Haven’t we suffered enough? May the Blue Wave wash over us!
Indeed, Dee…and what a vivid description of how we shared our disbelief with strangers. Feels like I’m in a state of suspended animation wondering how this one will play out, how we’ll be feeling, and how we’ll be sharing those feelings.
I’d never heard of Crazy Ikes, Barb, and I would have made the same assumption as you did about Eisenhower. I didn’t write about 2016 because it’s too raw, and echo all the sentiments you expressed.
Not surprisingly, you’re not alone in saying 2016 is still too raw, Mare. Hopefully 2020 will serve to ameliorate our shared horror.
I’ve never heard of Crazy Ikes, but they sure look like fun. The assumption that they were named after Eisenhower makes sense, although he was like everyone’s beloved grandfather, so calling him “crazy” would not have been a good marketing move.
I too am haunted by the 2016 election, and as you say, will always remember exactly where I was when I learned that DT had the electoral votes to win. Thank you for writing this story. And thanks for the profile picture of scary you this week.
Thanks, Suzy…I have to admit I never thought about the “crazy” aspect, but you’re absolutely right.
I like the way you bookended the story with the “Crazy Ikes.” And that in the course of writing, you revealed to the reader that you had investigated further and learned something new about it. I also like the way you used the word “waste” twice in one sentence–not always a good idea literarily, but it was this time as you used it once as a verb and once as a noun. Gave the sentence extra oomph.
Aside from all that, I share the values that permeated your narrative and my wishes are with yours.
I appreciate you noticing all those little things I do, Dale! I love embedding literary devices in my stories.
Totally cool dia de los muertos makeup, Barb! I believe ya!
I almost got suckered out on Ike’s first election. I was in second grade but my parents were about as Left as you could be without being McCarthy’d half to death. Well, actually, my old man was, had a hard time getting a job through most of the 1950s and even early 60s on accounta his former Communist Party membership.
But that fall, my best pal had a really cool “I Like Ike” t-shirt and I really, really wanted one. I was already too hip to try a t-shirt “gimme” on my parents, but I do remember that shirt.
That might have been the all-time best campaign slogan…simple, and impossible to forget.
It sounded folksy and apple pie-ish, but was also right in the Madison Avenue “I’d walk a mile for a camel” or I’d rather fight than switch.” Oh, and btw: I remember being kinda pissed off that Stevenson didn’t have a t-shirt like Ike’s.