Invention Convention

Recently I had the extreme pleasure of attending the Invention Convention at the South Mountain Elementary School. Every third grader had been encouraged to come up with a pressing problem that needed solving and then present his proposed solution to the public, comprised mostly of her peers. Long tables ringed the outside perimeter of the gymnasium, with 3 to 4 inventors behind each table. They waited-- some patiently, some anxiously-- for folks to wander up and ask them what they had to offer. Then, like olde time snake oil peddlers their eyes brightened as they let go a sales pitch that would make Ronco proud.

Clearly having practiced, their spiel was down to a science. I would walk up to a huckster, and he or she would take a deep breath then lean towards me a little, gearing up for the big sell. Most of them began the same way, “You know how when…”, regardless of the age of the listener. I liked that I was one of them; sharing their problems, feeling their pain. When you get down to it, aren’t we all just simpatico souls looking for answers?

I walked up to a fair-haired girl who looked in my eyes and asked, “You know how when you’re on the monkey bars and your hands slip?”
“Yes,” I said in all earnestness. It was an irksome predicament.
“Well, these gloves are sticky on the palm for wearing on the monkey bars.” I looked at the proto-type. “Awesome,” I said. And I meant it. Slipping off the monkey bars can ruin any gal’s day. But it doesn’t have to now, not when you’re wearing Stickeroo Gloves.

Looking at the pretty, colorful charm bracelet dangling from the next inventor’s wrist, I asked, “What have you got there?”
She answered matter-of-factly, “It’s the Eraserlet. All the charms are erasers so you just wear it to school and you’ve always got one near by.”
“Genius,” I said. I couldn’t help it. I thought it was. In fact, they all were.

There was the Jump Rope Soaker wherein small holes have been poked in water bottles for handles which sprinkle water to keep you cool while you jump rope, and the Wheel of Fun, which you spin to help decide what to do on a playdate. There was the No-Hands Rabbit Feeder and the Semi-Automatic Bed-Maker which helps you make your bed by dragging the sheet, blanket and comforter up to the top of the bed in one all-attached rope handle with multiple clips. He even demonstrated it’s semi-automatic action on a doll’s bed. It was amazing. I would have placed an order on the spot.

There was the Stuffed Animal Holder for keeping your stuffed animals from falling out of bed and onto the floor at night while you sleep, and the Backpack with Interchangeable Decorative Covers. There was the Remote Finder, the Lollypop Saver and the Toothpaste Pump. These were the pressing dilemmas of a nine year old and here were their obvious solutions. They were so creative and so sure of themselves-- hawking their wares like Javitz Center pros-- that I knew that our national sales and promotions culture had a robust future. But mostly I was proud of their creativity and imagination; proud beyond belief and they weren’t even my kids. I wanted to linger and ask if they’d considered spending their summer applying for design patents, but I was short on time and didn’t want to miss any.

Some ideas were clearly born from hearing grown-ups kvetch and although those inventions secretly cracked me up, I was just as impressed. Like the good people-pleasing co-dependants some kids—mostly oldest children-- become, they had fashioned solutions for an adult world, hoping to cut down on the carping they have to overhear while playing video games; half in their world, half in ours. Or maybe they just want to be helpful.

There were the Thorn Avoider Gardening Gloves and the Mop with Hollow Handle that you pour water into and then squeeze into the floor sponge as needed. There was the Toss-A-Meal Dinner Decider spinning wheel, and the removable and washable Dirty Tissue Jacket Pockets that velcro inside your jacket so that you can pull a clean tissue from one pocket, then return it used to the other. One girl had designed a hollow secret-key hiding place inside a flower pot which could house actual dirt and flowers, and a future funny-man demo’ed his Nail Holder for holding nails away from the hammer so that you don’t hit your fingers, while wearing a fake, bloody, nail-through-the-finger bandage on his finger. Points for visual drama and gross-out humor, kid. Way to know your audience.

I left the Invention Convention with a bounce in my step and a chuckle in my heart. I know that China’s going to clobber us in told and untold ways for many years to come, but our can-do spirit is alive and well in our elementary schools. These students were polished and passionate, creative and industrious, and I’m anxious to see what they come up with next. Until then, put me down for a pair of Stickaroo Gloves and a Lollypop Saver—make it two.

Drunk Octopus

This is why I know we're all going to be okay. This very thing is evidence to me that we're going to weather whatever comes our way-- Armageddon, big brother, or slow and sloppy self-induced decay-- we are going to make it though to the other side. Why am I so sure? Because a drunk octopus wants to fight me.

The way I look at it, this kid didn't just look at a coat hook and see an octopus, she saw an octopus with his dukes up. (I'm deciding the mind in this case belongs to a female because it's something I would have done had I thought of it-- were I a steely-minded genius-- alas.) And she didn't just see an octopus itching for a fight, she saw nuance. She saw that the octopus isn't just hopping mad with crossed out eyes, but is also wasted, which anyone can plainly see because his eyeballs are askew.

That is what I find so extraordinary. We didn't see it plainly and she did. I've been looking at coat hooks my entire life and never saw what she did. I'm sure there are scads of industrial designers, architects, scientists and comedy writers who've been looking at coat hooks their entire lives, too, and never for a moment saw what she saw. But she did. And then she did something about it. Did she tell a friend? Did she write a note? No she bucked authority and proclaimed it in sharpie, there for all the world to see. She had a brilliant thought then made a mark and stood her ground. I want to kiss her. I want to hire her. I want her to rule my world.

She's got the combination of what I revere most in any person; imagination, a sense of humor and moxie. One's of little use without the other and to have all three will get you far. Well, maybe not far in our society, but far in her heart, I hope, and far in mine. Yes, she's a little impertinent to be sure, but so were Einstein, Julia Child and Joan Jett. As long as minds such as hers keep seeing things that no one else can see and inventing creepy vacuum cleaners that vaporize dirt into nothingness and hum-a-little-tune apps for cameras that are phones, hilarious websites like “Regretsy” and goofy noses on the sides of paper cups, we will have the necessary tools to get by and perhaps, yes, even thrive.

Because of all the joy that keeps coming my way like an IV drip—just enough to keep me going-- in bits and pieces and tiny morsels, I can’t fight you Drunk Octopus, even though I see that you’re hopping mad and at any given moment could surely come up with plenty of reasons to take you on. But I won’t, because I see your pain and in yours I recognize mine. Plus, I don’t want you throwing up on me. So, sleep it off, Drunk Octopus, and in the morning I’ll make you some eggs.