Clackers. Marble balls on strings that you played with – we played with, I played with and absolutely loved – by making the two balls clack, bang and boom against one another (hand-eye development for sure!). They were so much fun; I loved the sound of the two balls meeting, but they were taken off shelves and horribly altered (plastic, no string, ick!) because pieces of breaking clackers were getting in people’s eyes, and bodies, I guess? That sucks, so I do get it, but oh, the loss!!
On line, where you can get a vintage paid of clackers for only $125, they’re called Klatter Balls. Klatter simply does not have the same deliciousness of Clackers. Words will ‘k’ in them tend to inspire humor, to imply fun will be had; I read that once, and I agree. Klackers. And yes, what would Freud say? Smashing testicle-like balls together has an underlying message I am sure, which is or was – hm – I wonder. LOL. The idea was how long, how many high and low clacks you could get, making the balls create a circle of sound at high speed. D’you think they also reminded men of the vulnerability of ‘their package’? Heeheehee. They were cool and heavy in the hand. Heeheehee.
I am not going to pay $125 bucks for a vintage pair of Klackers, but I admit, I’m tempted. Chinese jump rope was also an obsession around the same time, middle school, a madness that faded when our attention was turned toward…boys? Organized school sports? Our first jobs as teenagers? One day, we were hanging out, waiting for our turn to jump like mad around and within strewn together rubber bands stretched between the ankles of two of our friends, or frenemies, standing at least eight feet apart, or weaving plastic colored strand into chunky anklets, necklaces, and bracelets, or clackety-clack clack clacking to our hearts content. And then we weren’t.
Clackety-clack clack clack. Heeheehee.
