Videos abound online in which Rubik’s Cube gurus demonstrate how to solve the puzzle. Novices will have no trouble with the first simple rule: keep the cube upright at all times. Beyond that, the prevailing strategy is far more complicated: memorize and apply a set of algorithms that account for most arrangements of colored tiles across the cube’s six surfaces. Outstanding Rubik’s Cube performance obviously requires dedication beyond the average rainy-day folly—it’s a vocation.

Many other playful pursuits prize mind-boggling rapidity achieved through mind-numbing perseverance, and include something for everyone. Those who can tolerate skintight suits may gravitate toward speed skiing. There’s also competitive eating—though skintight suits are out of the question—and speed pumpkin carving, from which I’d prefer to keep a safe distance. More sedentary or cautious folks, like me, should be satisfied with Perfection, a matching game demanding mastery in less than 60 seconds. The noisy explosion at the buzzer used to terrify me, and I practiced harder to avert that crisis.

Midway on the spectrum between speed skiing and Perfection lies sport stacking. Rarely have I seen people display sharper concentration and focus than when they are hustling to build and dismantle pyramids of plastic cups with machinelike efficiency. Watching a tournament here at the National Museum of Play at The Strong some years ago, I noticed sport stackers displaying Zen-like steadiness—at least until they stopped the timer and exploded in triumph.

These high-speed, no-frills contests stand in opposition to longer endurance challenges such as hula hooping, jumping rope, Pogo Bal bouncing, and juggling, which not only test one’s stamina but perhaps invite playful embellishment as well. There’s simply no time for that when every hundredth of a second matters. Yet, the two share common goals: in striving to exceed others’ records, competitors ultimately better themselves. And that’s well worth the time invested.

We spend a lot of time talking about the way the media portrays women—how images of svelte, scantily-clad models on New York City’s sky-high billboards affect us mere mortals below, for instance. The struggle with body image and beauty standards begins at a very young age for girls, often with toys like Barbie, the beautiful doll who stares mockingly up at everyone unfortunate enough to be made of something other than flawless plastic. But this comprises only a small part of the conversation. What about the ways that toys portray men? Recently, while cataloging The Strong’s collection of early-20th century dolls made by the A. Schoenhut Company, it occurred to me that, although we clearly separate “boy toys” from “girl toys,” both groups include male figures. The Schoenhut dolls, for instance, depict boys and girls. However, the dolls, traditionally a girl toy, present a very different image of masculinity than many boy toys.

Among the boy toys, G.I. Joe cuts a lean but muscular figure, comes clad in a sea of camouflage, and participates in only the most rugged and dangerous adventures. The soldier, who made his debut in the 1960s as a boy’s alternative to Barbie, comes well-equipped for all sorts of combat situations. Like Barbie, G.I. Joe has all the accessories he needs—though he comes with hand grenades and assault rifles rather than high heels and hairbrushes. Though his career took a beating when the Vietnam War raised parental concerns about toys that encourage violence, G.I. Joe coped well, turning instead to other masculine pursuits, such as hunting and the martial arts. If Barbie celebrates consumerism and feminine beauty, then G.I. Joe promotes an active and adventurous lifestyle for boys. Other boy toys portray masculinity in the same way. If G.I. Joe conveys the message that men should be aggressive and athletic, the sneering, muscle-bound He-Man action figure pile drives that message into the ground.

The sociological concept of gender socialization offers some insight. According to the theory, gendered toys help children develop their identity as males or females and understand the societal norms attached to their gender. Often, boys will latch on to the rugged version of masculinity they see portrayed in their own toys and reject all things “girly” (think cooties), including Barbie and her beau. Adults tend to perpetuate this aversion by encouraging children to play exclusively with gender appropriate toys. Meanwhile, girls learn the rules of femininity from Barbie. But what do they learn from Ken? It seems to me that he might generate some unrealistic expectations about men and relationships, a set of expectations bolstered by Disney-style fairy tales and romantic comedies. Perhaps Ken’s portrayal of masculinity deepens the divide between genders by creating a distinctly softened, feminine masculinity that boys shun because it contrasts so starkly with the version presented in toys meant for boys. For my part, I hope there will come a day when girls and boys play with the same, gender-neutral toys that won’t urge them to conform to any one standard. But, just as I know better than to wait for a perfectly-coiffed, life-size Ken to salsa dance his way into my life, I’m not going to hold my breath.

Toys and games inducted into the National Toy Hall of Fame at The Strong have to meet three key criteria. First, they have to demonstrate their enduring qualities with significant longevity. Second, they need to promote play that encourages creativity, learning, and discovery. And, finally, they need to be widely recognized, a quality I sometimes describe as “iconic.” So when a political staffer wanted to create an immediately familiar image of starting over, he turned to Etch A Sketch. Bingo—icon status proved! Given that Romney’s competitors and television news anchors everywhere could immediately brandish their own Etch A Sketches, that shows how the toy has remained popular and available long after its sensational debut way back in 1960. Creativity? Etch A Sketch has it in spades.

Much as I loved drawing when I was a kid, I never mastered the Etch A Sketch. Everything I tried to illustrate turned out to look like a geometry textbook diagram (Is that a rhombus?) or like an outline of the state of Texas. So I probably wouldn’t choose the Etch A Sketch as my personal favorite among the 49 classic toys in the National Toy Hall of Fame. But I can hold out hope that the 2012 political season will produce more toy analogies that bring the discussion back to the National Toy Hall of Fame. A candidate like a jack-in-the-box? Gas prices like a kite? The economy like a Hula Hoop? My message to politicians and spokespeople nationwide: Etch A Sketch has been used but you have 48 more National Toy Hall of Fame inductees ready to fit your metaphor.

I concede that each of this year’s inductees certainly belongs in the Toy Hall of Fame, but I have a special fondness for the dollhouse, probably because I remember the metal Louis Marx dollhouse and its furnishings from the 1950s which my sisters and I played with long (long, long) ago. The dollhouse’s place in play, however, started well before then.

Historians trace the origins of the dollhouse to 16th-century elaborate cabinets in which wealthy European women displayed their collections of miniatures. Called baby houses, these wooden structures contained several compartments, and each compartment represented a room furnished with tiny handcrafted household items and furniture. The cabinets were the exclusive playthings of adults and, in showcasing finely made furnishings of exotic woods, metals, fabrics, and other materials, the baby house demonstrated a woman’s wealth and good taste. The first record of a miniature house made for children dates to 1558, when Albrecht V, Duke of Bavaria, ordered a dollhouse for his daughter. The dollhouse so pleased the Duke (and presumably his daughter) that he listed it among the works of art he owned in an inventory of his household.

The idea of a dollhouse for children caught on soon after. In Europe, especially Germany, toy makers in the 17th and 18th centuries produced miniature houses for youngsters. These tiny models of homes and their furnishings introduced children to household management and decoration. In the 19th century, mass-production methods allowed toy manufacturers to offer dollhouses cheaply, and more children of the growing middle class played with these miniature houses in their nurseries. By the turn of the 20th century, well-known manufacturers such as Christian Hacker and Moritz Gottschalk of Germany, Siber & Fleming and the Lines Brothers of England, and R. Bliss, A. Schoenhut, and Converse in the United States supplied dollhouses and furnishings to suit everyone’s pocketbook. At the middle of the 20th century, many American toy companies offered dollhouses made of wood, cardboard, metals, and plastic. Companies such as Tootsietoy, Rich Toy Company, Keystone Manufacturing, Renewal, Louis Marx, and Plasco offered dollhouses and furnishings to satisfy every taste in architecture and style of furniture and décor. To this day, dollhouses made by Fisher-Price, Disney, Calico Critters, Hasbro, Kidkraft, Mattel, and others inspire hours of children’s play.

Dollhouses, though, still intrigue adults. Many grown-up hobbyists make their own dollhouses and take great pleasure in re-creating miniature versions of home settings from their childhood, places they have traveled, or fantastic scenes of their imaginations. The tens of thousands miniature enthusiasts in America support a huge industry of steady sales and annual national and regional shows, conventions, and exhibits.

So, okay. The dollhouse certainly belongs in the National Toy Hall of Fame. Perhaps the Hall of Fame will induct puppets next year.

I can now tell you that the modern minifig debuted as a key element of three new LEGO themes in 1978: town, castle, and space. Initially the 1.5-inch figures had the familiar yellow barrel head, rhomboid body, moveable arms, and blocky legs. Dressed and accessorized for their roles, minifigs proved instantly popular. That year, more than half the sets introduced by LEGO included them, and several sets—particularly in the LEGO Town—contained a minifig and a vehicle (albeit one that was too small for the minifig to ride in; more spacious vehicles followed in late 1978 and early 1979).

A policeman in a set with a police car was the first modern minifig, but it took a knight to launch minifigs to the prominence they enjoy today. Fourteen castle knights came with the 1978 castle set, three times more than any other set produced that year or the next. The knights wore removable helmets and wielded an assortment of swords, halberds, and lances in their C-shaped hands. These extensively accessorized minifigs proved so popular that LEGO marketed them separately, offering them both as a stand-alone set and as a polybagged “service pack” intended to supplement existing sets.

Until the introduction of the LEGO pirate theme in 1989, the castle line ranked among the most popular, growing to include nine distinct LEGO sets, four of which contained nothing but minifigs: knights (quickly split into crusaders and Black Falcon factions), woodmen, and peasants, all adapted to wield a vacuum-clogging array of tiny shields, spears, crossbows, bows and arrows, spears, cups, and pitchforks. The knights even had horses to ride on, their LEGO-block feet sliding into a deep notch on the steed’s back.

It’s difficult for me to escape the conclusion that we lost some imaginative element when people with faces, clothes, and tiny accoutrements entered the LEGO world. Last year, my seven-year-old son received a LEGO Brickmaster set from a friend. The hybrid box/book proclaimed that the set included more than 140 bricks and two minifigures! Inside, he found a small bag of LEGO bricks, the parts for both a soldier and a pirate (complete with a LEGO peg leg), and a jumble of LEGO-sized accessories: a treasure map, several cutlasses, a couple blunderbusses and pistols, a treasure chest full of LEGO gems, and everything necessary to build a cannon capable of launching LEGO cannonballs into the inaccessible spaces behind our couch and bookshelves.

My son and I spent several tiring hours working our way through the instruction booklet, building caves and castle gates, caissons and cannons. We pitted pirate against soldier in pitched and short-lived skirmishes (“Now create your own pirate adventure!” the book commanded) before moving on to the next model. Within a week, though, I discovered to my delight that the bricks had been absorbed into our general mass of LEGOs and the pirate and solider had joined the ranks of our two LEGO armies (pirates-Sith-Stormtroopers versus soldiers-Jedi-Clone minifigs). The instructions haven’t been off the shelf since, and the last time I saw the pirate he held a laser blaster, had a tiny tentacle for one hand, and wore a motorcycle helmet. Then I saw my son stacking up black and green bricks to build his own Frankenstein. Despite the rise of LEGO kits and minifigs, in my house, at least, imagination is alive and well.

Mobo Bronco has committed to proving he’s a big-boy horse by sleeping without his night light as often as he can. When his donor bravely left him in our care, she asked that we place him near a doorway and not leave him in the dark. It turned out to be a brilliant request, as folks passing by my office stopped to pet him and admire his walking mechanism. Now that Mobo is safe in collections storage with other friendly riding toys, he is gaining the confidence to face his fears. Just in case, though, there’s a Raggedy Andy night light at the ready to comfort him.

Alphie would like to spend more time at home with his friend Alphie II. In 2011 the senior bright-eyed robot toy spent six months on loan to the Elmhurst Historical Museum for an exhibit about Chicago-area toy inventors and companies. Reunited in Rochester, the pair plans to sing songs, compare buttons, and offer positive reinforcement for correct answers.

The Strong’s round Monopoly board hopes for a healthier, more beautiful 2012 following its recent makeover. Hand-painted on oilcloth by Charles Darrow to fit the shape of his dining room table, the game board landed in the collection of millionaire Malcolm Forbes. After arriving at The Strong last year, it received a nip and tuck (translation: conservation and cleaning) before appearing in the exhibit, Monopoly: An American Icon. Here’s hoping it can maintain its new look and confidence. Chief aesthetician Primp & Polish Barbie tells me she’s assembled a cadre of skilled on-call beauty consultants should Monopoly wish to take things to the next level.

As collections manager, I’m also in the business of reminding people that artifacts are delicate. Yes, New Year’s resolutions are certain to be abandoned. The artifacts don’t know that, though, so please be gentle with them.

What made the cars so different and special? Their suspension used a thin gauge music wire as the axle which, when lubricated and coupled with a unique plastic bearing, allowed the cars to zoom along at the equivalent of 200 miles per hour for a full-size vehicle. Unmistakable “Spectraflame” paint created an eye-catching metallic finish on the first few years’ production cars. Those models also featured souped-up details such as side exhaust pipes, jacked-up rear ends, and red-stripe racing tires. Hot Wheels soon attracted both young and old fans.

Collectors particularly prize the “Sweet 16,” the first 16 Hot Wheels models. Ten of these represented production autos made with permission of the manufacturers but modified with custom touches, and six represented real one-of-a-kind show cars. All these original models still sell continuously on online collectors’ auction websites. That said, issues such as condition, rarity of paint color, and place of origin all contribute to collector value. Among the early cars, the hot pink color is the generally the hardest color to find. In the 1960s, Mattel executives considered other colors more appropriate for boys’ toys. The rarity makes hot pink Hot Wheels quite valuable. But collectors don’t stop with the first 16 cars. Through the years other details have produced high demand for specific models. Today, specialists customize the tiny toys with welded modifications and incredible paint jobs. The range of collectible Hot Wheels cars is staggering.

Still inexpensive in their “off the rack” forms, the speedy little models have held on to their play value through the years. Beyond the vast array of vehicles, the Hot Wheels brand now encompasses everything from toddler toys to electronic racing games. Mattel maintains a website with games and videos. Race car drivers Dale Earnhardt, Jr. and Danica Patrick both helped design recent cars featured there. If you’re really serious about Hot Wheels, collector websites let fans share a plethora of specialized information. So far, $72,000 stands as the record price set for the auction purchase of an individual car. Those are some Hot Wheels, indeed! Whether vintage collectibles or the latest incarnations, Hot Wheels have definitely earned their place in the National Toy Hall of Fame.

Come to think of it, after the house was built, my sisters and I spent more time rearranging furniture (such as our bright yellow side chairs and sofa) than we did playing with our dolls. Just as we could change our dolls into different outfits, we could change the entire look of our dollhouse with a few choice aesthetic decisions. The dollhouse’s seven rooms gave us countless possibilities; however, as the oldest daughter and head “interior designer,” I always set rules for my younger sisters. The garage and horse stable were always the two bottom rooms; the kitchen, dining room, and living room spaces were in the middle; and the bedrooms were on the top floor. Everything had a place—or at least it did until my youngest sister would let the horses sleep in the attic or my brother’s action figures invaded and Barbie and her bed were moved “outside.”

I hadn’t thought of my childhood dollhouse for years until I was given a recent project where I had the pleasure of photographing more than a dozen late 19th- and early-20th century dollhouses from the National Museum of Play’s collections. As I set up my tripod and took light measurements, other Collections Team members furnished the dollhouses with accessories. I watched as they placed tiny chairs around the ornate tables and flashed back to my youth and the hours my sisters and I spent decorating our dollhouse.

Photographing artifacts here at The Strong often gives me a firsthand sense of their play appeal, but never have I been so tempted as I was by the dollhouses. Perhaps I’ll have to talk my siblings into helping me build a dollhouse for my three-year-old niece so we can play again. This time, I promise to restrain my inclination to act as the interior design style police and hand over control to a new generation of dollhouse lovers.

In an effort to preserve play memories, the museum recently installed two kiosks, one on the first floor near Super Kids Market and the other in TimeLab on the second floor. Equipped with webcams, the kiosks allow guests to create a video in a matter of minutes. These videos contribute to the museum’s expanding archives of play, and many make their way to the America at Play website. Of the diverse videos guests have shared, two in particular stick out in my mind. One of those, 4 Seasons of Fun attests to the fact that outdoor play can happen year round, even in chilly, snowy Canada. From horseback riding to constructing giant snow forts, this family truly embraces nature as a playground. Another video, Hula Hooping, tells a wonderful tale of determination and perseverance. Hula hooping requires a surprising amount of skill and patience, and in this story we hear how a nervous young girl blossomed into a hula hooping all-star.

These videos represent only a tiny portion of the complex, evolving, and universal story of play. Everyone has their own unique memories to share, especially adults. Recognizing and understanding how children play today requires no more than a stroll through the museum on a busy summer day—it happens all around. But how do adults play now? What games and toys did kids love in the 1960s or 1970s? What memories do you have of playing with your parents or siblings? What sports did you play growing up? Which of the National Toy Hall of Fame inductees did you enjoy most? The kiosks are in place to capture these memories, stories that only you can tell.

Help us to further understand and better portray the many ways that people play, and have played, over the years. Too far away for a visit? You can post a homemade video directly to our website. Check out America at Play: Play Stories to find out how.

But a trip to Chicago isn’t the only way to appreciate the ingenuity and accomplishments celebrated by the TAGIE awards. Each year, The Strong’s National Museum of Play honors the winners with a display that offers museum guests the opportunity to see many of the newest and best toys and games. This year all the winning toy inventors kindly donated examples of their creation for the display. Some also donated or lent actual prototype designs of their toys.

And the Winners Are …

The 2010 Excellence in Toy Design award went to Robert Croak, President of BCP Imports, LLC/Sillybandz. You can tell from his job title what toy his firm created! Robert’s genius idea for repurposing silicone bands as children’s fashion accessories is now legend.

Los Angeles-based Mary Jo Reutter received the Excellence in Game Design award. Her recent designs include Disney Princess Friends Forever board game, Laundry Jumble game, and Sumo Ham Slam. Visit the museum to see the prototype for Mary Jo’s remarkable and humorous Sumo Ham Slam—a dexterity game involving Sumo wrestling hamsters. The more sushi they consume the fatter (and stronger) they become!

The Rising Star of the Year award went to Dominic Crapuchettes, founder and co-president of North Star Games. Dominic grew up playing family games three evenings a week, and he says he always wanted to be a game designer. North Star’s Wits and Wagers—a trivia game—has won more game awards than any other party game in history.

The Young Inventor of the Year award recognizes that creative entrepreneurs aren’t limited by age. This year, Kate Daniels won for her teen games Camp Talk and Buddy Talk. Kate drew inspiration from Beth Daniels, mom, who produces similar conversational games such as Family Talk and Grandparent Talk for their family firm, Around the Table Games.

Eddy Goldfarb received the TAGIE Lifetime Achievement award. Though he’s best known as the inventor of Yakity-Yak Talking Teeth, Eddy has also designed hundreds of famous toys and games over the years, including Ker-Plunk, Shark Attack, and the LEGO Creator board game.

Several special awards were presented as part of the 2010 festivities. The Jim Henson Company received an Excellence in Character Creation award, which was accepted by Lisa Henson, chief executive officer and the late Jim Henson’s daughter. Additionally, a special Humanitarian award went to siblings Alan G. Hassenfeld and Ellen Hassenfeld Block. And finally, a posthumous award went to George Lerner, designer of the enduring classic and The Strong’s National Toy Hall of Fame inductee, Mr. Potato Head.

So please join me in an enthusiastic round of applause for these creative game and toy inventors. It may only be March, but I’m already looking forward to this coming November when it will be time again for the TAGIE awards to celebrate the talented people who make so much impact on the world of play.