I believe that the staff at The Strong follows these precepts. Most of us would characterize a good portion of our efforts here not as work, but rather, as serious play. We work (er, play) at The Strong not only because we love what we do, but because we embrace and defend the museum’s mission to explore play and the ways in which it encourages learning, creativity, and discovery and illuminates cultural history.

The museum’s staff is composed of many teams, all simultaneously working and playing together, each person contributing in no small way to the production of playful and meaningful experiences for our guests. Every staff member brings a passion for their individual calling to play in the creation of every new and exciting exhibit.

Play is especially apparent throughout the entire exhibition development, production, and installation process. Such was the case, recently, during the creation of our new Game Time! exhibit. Game Time! began with enlightened, playful, and productive brainstorming to generate an initial concept of what an exhibit about the history of games and puzzles might contain and how it might look. Months of research and label writing, artifact selection and conservation, and exhibit design and fabrication have resulted in more than 4,000 square feet of exhibit space filled a wide array of games and puzzles to examine, experience, and play your way through.

I particularly enjoyed my involvement in one of the final steps of the process: illuminating the end result using both traditional and non-traditional sources of light. Lighting an exhibit requires blending and balancing numerous factors. As the museum’s conservator, I’m especially mindful of the need to protect artifacts from the detrimental impact of light. Exposure to uncontrolled light energy—particularly in the ultraviolet range of the electromagnetic spectrum—will cause irreversible damage to organic materials like the paper, cardboard, and printing inks used in most vintage games and puzzles. It will set in motion invisible chemical reactions that will physically degrade their structures while causing unwanted visible changes such fading and other color shifts. At the same time, I’m also committed to energy efficiency. And I must also consider and respect the exhibit designer’s creativity, and the need for dramatic lighting that establishes a mood and highlights the artifacts to their best advantage.

We employed energy-saving lighting to enhance the experience of Game Time! as guests traverse the exhibit’s winding game board path. At the same time, a state-of-the-art fiber optic lighting system illuminates the light-sensitive artifacts on display in the exhibit’s cases. In comparison to other types of lighting sources, the light transmitted by fiber optics minimizes the potential for irreversible, light-induced damage. The system also saves energy by generating less heat load on the air conditioning, and it preserves the artifacts by switching to lower light levels when no one is in the gallery.

But don’t just take my word for it. Come see for yourself and enjoy the play of light as you play your way through Game Time!; we have lit the way.

All-Fair constructed a factory in 1926 in the Rochester suburb of Churchville and maintained a sales office in New York City. Retailers and consumers alike appreciated the high-quality printing and bright colors, and All-Fair gained a reputation for both well-made and well-timed games. The firm produced the game Tutoom just a year after archaeologist Howard Carter’s sensational find of King Tutankhamen’s tomb in 1922. While America and the world experienced the so-called third wave of Egyptian revival in architecture, design, and advertising, only All-Fair capitalized on the excitement with a board game in which players moved donkeys around a colorful board in order to be the first to enter the tomb. Around the same time, the firm produced Zippy Zepps, a race game that played to the public’s fascination with zeppelins in that era.

Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, the company kept the All-Fair name even though Alderman left after 1928. While parent firm E. E. Fairchild Corp. still produced paper goods, it also made games and jigsaw puzzles under the All-Fair brand, and printed card decks and games under its Fairco brand. Puzzles and card games kept the business afloat after the 1950s, but Elmer Fairchild began to lose interest in his firm. His first love was baseball, and he served as president of the Rochester Red Wings baseball team from 1944 until 1954—the year in which he died. His son, E. E. Fairchild Jr., couldn’t replicate the quality All-Fair achieved in its heyday, and the firm faced increasing competition from larger game makers such as Parker Brothers. A fire in 1974 devastated inventory, and competitor Schaper-Ross purchased the remainder of their products. That company kept the Fairchild name on certain puzzles through the early 1980s. Meanwhile, the Rochester Red Wings inducted Elmer Fairchild Sr. to its team Hall of Fame in 2010, citing Fairchild’s efforts later in life to repay his debt to a city “which had been so good to him.”

As an exemplary Rochester entrepreneur, Fairchild made his mark on Rochester’s history. And he certainly left a legacy of beautifully made games. You can examine some of those games in Game Time!, The Strong’s newest permanent exhibit on the museum’s second floor, and appreciate their creativity and craftsmanship.

For centuries, children have enjoyed the challenges and rewards of construction sets. In 1870 the Crandall Bridge set kept users busy for hours, with a wide array of wooden pieces (and lack of instructions). At first glance, the illustrated box lid makes the bridge set seem deceptively simple but, having attempted to assemble it with a coworker several months ago, I can tell you that we were both baffled (and frustrated) within the first few minutes. Thankfully, construction toys have evolved into a variety of more user-friendly formats since the introduction of the Crandall Bridge set.

Alphabet blocks have long served as a standard toy for children, encouraging development of fine motor skills, color and letter recognition, and sensory perception as toddlers stack blocks higher and higher, testing the physical limits of the medium, until the structure eventually topples to the ground. Lincoln Logs take the process one step further with interlocking notches and logs of various sizes. Both toys allow users to bring their ideas to life, creating the physical interpretations of imaginary places and structures. It’s no surprise that both alphabet blocks and Lincoln Logs have earned a place in the National Toy Hall of Fame at The Strong.

Of course, you can’t discuss construction toys without mentioning what has become perhaps the most iconic one of all: LEGO bricks. For most of us the name LEGO stirs visions of brightly colored, interlocking blocks, likely bringing a smile to our faces in the process. Chances are you’ve interacted with this popular toy at least once; maybe it was years ago, maybe it was earlier today. Either way, the interlocking bricks of molded plastic seem to epitomize the very essence of construction toys, offering an endless range of creative possibilities. In more recent years LEGO boxed sets have become enormously popular, wherein instructions and all necessary parts are included for the successful assembly of a particular structure or vehicle, many of which are themed and include mini-figures depicting popular characters such as Captain Jack Sparrow. For the game lover and LEGO enthusiast, new LEGO Heroica sets make an ideal fit. However, many of us still favor the freedom, challenge, and possibility a pile of multicolored bricks and pieces holds, preferring instead to see where our imagination takes us.

The longevity of LEGO blocks—first created in 1932 by Danish master carpenter Ole Kirk Kristiansen—speaks to our desire to create tactile representations of our ideas and imagination, a need that seems to transcend age and gender. I know several parents who delight in playing with LEGO bricks alongside their sons and daughters, sharing ideas in a world where anything is possible. No wonder that the very name for these popular toys—blended from the Danish words “leg” and “godt”—means “play well.”

Whether you prefer blocks, bridges, logs, or bricks, construction toys can be a great way to fuel your imagination. Perhaps you’ll build a colorful block tower in the National Toy Hall of Fame during your next visit, journey through the LEGO Travel Adventure exhibit before it closes on May 12, or stop for a quick picture in our Lincoln Log cabin between the first and second floors. Whatever you choose to construct, “leg godt.”

Jeff has been a diehard fan of professional wrestling for more than 25 years. Some people can rattle off baseball and football stats, but not my brother. Instead, he’s a walking encyclopedia of wrestling ring knowledge. Personally, I never fell in love with the “sport,” but I can understand its appeal. What began as vaudeville and carnival sideshow acts in the United States has turned into a multi-billion-dollar industry. Character development, soap opera-like storylines, licensing and merchandising, and crossover appearances into other areas of the entertainment industry (such as music and movies), helped catapult professional wrestling into the midst of mainstream culture.

Professional wrestling, unlike its traditional counterpart Greco-Roman wrestling, combines physical strength and agility with entertainment. In the United States, the primary organization overseeing the field is World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc. (WWE), formerly known as the World Wrestling Federation (WWF). Part of the success of the WWE, and other competing organizations, can be traced to their savvy marketing and merchandising. They increased visibility of the organization and offered special matches via pay-per-view, which essentially brought sold-out arena shows into living rooms nationwide. Product licensing brought the WWE and its various characters into further markets, reaching buyers of toys and games.

The Strong’s collection includes numerous professional-wrestling-related artifacts, primarily video games, starting with one of the oldest wrestling video games, Nintendo Pro Wrestling (1987). Other pro-wrestling-themed artifacts range from a windup Sting figure to novelty talking soda can toppers and yo-yos. Several toy trade catalogs in the Brian Sutton-Smith Library and Archives of Play depict licensed merchandise, such as LJN Toys Ltd.’s WWF Wrestling Superstars, a line of 8.5-inch rubberized figures manufactured from 1984 to 1989. Plus the library holds a complete run of Playthings magazine which highlights advertising for various wrestling products.

Today, professional wrestling is clearly a firm part of the entertainment industry and our collective cultural history. Don’t make me put you in a headlock to get you to admit it.

I looked up her record in the museum’s database and found that she was made in the early 1950s by the Ideal Toy Company. Her computer record identified her as “black vinyl head, arms, and legs; head with sleeping brown eyes, closed mouth, molded and painted black hair; cloth body, yellow organdy dress and bonnet,” a rather modest description for a doll so important to American social history. The doll was in fact a Sara Lee doll, an early mass-produced play doll that attempted to depict an African American infant before the civil rights movement had achieved much success in creating racial equality in America.

In 1949 Sara Lee Creech, a businesswoman and social activist of Belle Glade, Florida, observed two African American girls playing with light-complexioned dolls. Creech thought it was wrong that the girls had no dolls to play with that looked like them, and she became determined to provide an “anthropologically correct” doll for black children. When she began her quest, Creech may have not known how truly important her doll idea would turn out be.

In the 1930s and 1940s, child psychologists Kenneth and Mamie Clark studied young children’s preferences for light and dark complexioned dolls. Black children often choose to play with the lighter dolls, suggesting that by the time they had reached nursery school, these youngsters had already accepted society’s prejudices about their own race. (The Clarks’ findings applied especially to black children attending segregated schools in the South, and these studies played an important role in the NAACP’s battle in the 1950s to end segregation in public schools.) Creech came to believe that a well-made doll that accurately reflected the beauty of African American children might help them overcome the self-rejection resulting from what one historian called a “corrosive awareness of color.” As Gordon Patterson observed in article about the Sara Lee doll for The Florida Historical Quarterly, “This was about using popular culture as a means of social and political reform.”

Sara Lee Creech began her crusade by approaching noted sculptor Sheila Burlingame to mold the doll head. Creech showed prototypes to African American novelist Zora Neale Hurston and a New York friend with ties to former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt. Mrs. Roosevelt took an interest in the project and wrote in a letter of support, “I like them particularly because they can be made and sold on an equal basis with white dolls. There is nothing to be ashamed of. They are attractive and reproduced well with careful study of the anthropological background of the race. I think they are a lesson in equality for little children, and we will find that many a child will cherish a charming black doll as easily as it [sic] will a charming white doll.”

With the help of black leaders including Ralph Bunche, Mary McLeod Bethune, and the presidents of Howard University and Morehouse College, Creech convinced the Ideal Toy Company to manufacture the dolls. She asked for guidance from leaders of the white community too. Mrs. Roosevelt helped out a second time, hosting a tea in New York City for African American leaders and Ideal executives when the firm delayed production on the doll in 1951. News of the first lady’s reception and doll’s availability appeared in Time, Newsweek, Life, Ebony, and Independent Woman, in addition to city and regional newspapers.

The Sara Lee doll never sold in the quantities that Creech, her supporters, or Ideal had hoped, in part because the vinyl used to make the doll hardened, lost its initial color, and seeped its dyes onto the doll’s clothing. Ideal cancelled plans to make other African American dolls with a range of lighter and darker complexions reflecting a similar range in the black population that might have broadened the dolls’ appeal. The toy world waited until 1968 before releasing another mass-market black doll, Barbie’s friend Christie. Meanwhile, Sara Lee Creech continued working for interracial harmony, establishing daycare centers in the 1950s and 1960s for the children of migrant workers and testifying before the White House Conference on Day Care in 1965. Her doll may not have become a commercial success, but as Gordon Patterson put it, “The creation of the Sara Lee doll said black children are to be taken seriously. It said that toys do matter.”

The world was celebrating Earth Day’s 20th anniversary when my elementary school teachers, Resa Levinson and Carol Cohen, introduced my classmates and me to environmentalism. We produced a video demonstrating ways to reduce, reuse, and recycle. We identified supermarket products with excess packaging and wrote letters to their manufacturers. We performed the progressive song “If I Had a Hammer” at our school’s Earth Day fair. We focused our current events assignments on the Exxon Valdez oil spill, Superfund sites, and acid rain, the same threats battled in the animated television series “Captain Planet and the Planeteers” (TBS, 1990­­–1996) and the board game it inspired. Planeteer Linka, defending birds with the power of wind, might have appreciated the Earth Day binoculars McDonald’s distributed in Happy Meals in conjunction with the National Audubon Society in 1993. I wonder if Muppet Prairie Dawn would have seen the plastic toys as fodder for landfills—much to Oscar the Grouch’s dismay, our kindred spirit leads recycling efforts in this place mat from The Strong’s collections. The Sesame Street gang would have been proud of my cohort.

My classmates and I also created a video in which students portrayed sea animals leading a protest for endangered species—a fitting format, given the spirit of the first Earth Day. I represented the bottlenose dolphin, an animal that mystified many kids of my generation—this could have been due to some rainbow-rific examples on our Lisa Frank school supplies. Flipper had served as the species’ ambassador in the 1960s. Splash, “the friendly dolphin,” accompanied the Fisher-Price Adventure People on their sea explorations, as depicted in the company’s 1976 trade catalog. SeaWorld parks across the country added to the appeal of marine life, especially orcas like Shamu, and a Save the Whales board game championed their protection.

My early teachers instilled in me a sustained reverence for nature. I canoed in New Jersey’s Pine Barrens with my high school’s environmental club and saw my first shooting star during a club-sponsored moonlight hike. I tackled trails in Scotland and Wales while studying abroad in college. These days, my husband and I shop at the Rochester Public Market to minimize the distance our food travels from farm to table, use non-toxic cleaning products, and burn wood (a renewable resource) to keep ourselves warm during the interminable Rochester winters. I became a vegetarian after learning, among other things, how farming animals for food wreaks havoc on the environment. And in this age of heightened consumer awareness, I’m thrilled to see eco-friendly playthings. This recycling truck by Green Toys not only raises children’s awareness of how people reduce waste, but the toy itself is made of recycled plastic with minimal packaging (which is also recycled and recyclable). LEGO’s recycling truck play set comes with bins to sort paper, aluminum, and glass—a skill many kids learned in preschool and are happy to demonstrate.

In recent years, children from my elementary school have diverted shoes from landfills and restored habitats in the Poquessing Creek Watershed. And in the week leading up to this 44th Earth Day, Western New Yorkers will attend a Party for the Planet at Seneca Park Zoo, clean up sites through the Monroe County parks department and Adopt-A-Stream, and pick up free tree seedlings at Hamlin Beach State Park. They should also visit the National Museum of Play, whose efforts to reduce the environmental impact of its 2006 building addition earned The Strong a Silver Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) certification rating. How will you practice green living on Earth Day (or any day)?

Anyone who’s ever competed at Go Fish, Candy Land, or pin the tail on the donkey will discover that many familiar games of today have histories extending back decades or even hundreds of years. Checkers and chess ranked among the favorite games of early colonists in North America. Britain’s Stamp Act of 1765 taxed playing cards along with other printed materials, raising many colonists’ temperatures about imperial infringement on local governance and setting in motion the political movement toward the American Revolution. Jumping 100 years ahead, game maker Milton Bradley turned his hit game, the Checkered Game of Life, into a pocket-sized version that proved popular with soldiers during the Civil War. And the classic strategy game Risk had its origins in the international tensions of the Cold War in the 1950s. Game Time! lets museum guests delve into these and other fascinating stories of play, past and present.

As fits the topic, Game Time! offers plenty of opportunities to play, whatever your age or interest. Crossword and Scrabble devotees can challenge themselves to finding the words hidden in the letter grid of Word Search. If spatial visualization is your strength, try the supersized Rush Hour puzzle. Feeling strategic? Then test your skills at naval maneuvers with a game of Battleship. Prefer games that require a little less thought? Game Time! shows off the range of games calling for hand-eye coordination, from timeless examples like Tiddledy Winks to newer variations such as Kerplunk and SpongeBob SquarePants’ own version of Ants in the Pants. Want to prove your own steady hands? A table dedicated to the toppling tower game Jenga gives you the chance to triumph over your companions.

Sometimes, the biggest requirement of a game is that it gives participants a reason to be together and socialize. It might seem awkward to ask, “Would you like to come over and sit around for two or three hours?” But frame the invitation as an opportunity to come play Parcheesi, Pit, or pinochle and the offer sounds more appealing. On some social occasions, the game recedes into the background as people gather around a table to laugh and enjoy one another’s company. In other instances, the game provides the central structure for the experience, whether that means an evening of The Settlers of Catan or a weekend of Dungeons & Dragons.

As the infomercials say, “But wait, there’s so much more!” Game Time! also offers a look into the world of puzzles, be those classic jigsaws or the all-time bestselling Rubik’s Cube. You’ll find unique activities such as a scaled up hands-on version of Perplexus, a 2012 Toy of the Year winner, for oversized puzzling fun. And the exhibit doesn’t neglect the kinds of games often found in rec rooms and dorm lounges. Come test your skills at air hockey, foosball, and vintage pinball games and explore all the exhibit’s insights and experiences. Whatever your generation, whatever your favorite game, Game Time! has so much to offer.

Smartly dressed, sharp-witted, and armed with clever gadgets hidden in her accessories, Honey West (Anne Francis) headlined a television series of the same name (ABC, 1965–1966) after her character appeared in an episode of “Burke’s Law” (ABC, 1963–1966). A. C. Gilbert offered a Honey West doll wearing a slim, black outfit and animal-print-trimmed boots. Accessories sold separately included a handbag with an attached telephone, a cosmetic compact concealing a pistol, and Honey’s pet ocelot, Bruce.

Susie, the Sophisticated Secret Agent, appeared in a Smethport magnetic toy around the same time Honey West snuck onto toy-store shelves. Secret Sue (no relation) was also on the scene, both as a Uneeda doll and a Whitman paper doll set. (Aside from the overcoat and sunglasses, not much in Secret Sue’s wardrobe screamed “dangerous”—more like “darling”—so I’ll assume sundresses and rompers were the stealthiest disguises a girl her age could muster.) Secret Sue’s contemporary, 11-year-old Harriet M. Welsch of Louise Fitzhugh’s 1964 novel, Harriet the Spy, also donned an unassuming costume: black-rimmed lensless eyeglasses, blue jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, plus a utility belt to hold her notebook and pens. Harriet made her observations in plain sight or hidden behind doors; she didn’t need to disguise herself to spy on her schoolmates and neighbors.

The Louis Marx April Dancer doll came with dozens of weapons and disguises, including wigs in a variety of colors and styles. Agent Dancer (Stefanie Powers) infiltrated criminal operations worldwide in the series “The Girl from U.N.C.L.E.” (NBC, 1966–1967), a spin-off of the popular program “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” (NBC, 1964–1968). In one episode, April escaped a familiar spy-story motif, the tank full of piranhas, which the film Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997) parodied (albeit with mutated, ill-tempered sea bass).

The spy genre was ripe for satire even in its heyday. “Get Smart” (NBC and CBS, 1965–1970) featured the inept secret agent Maxwell Smart (Don Adams) and his capable partner, #99 (Barbara Feldon). Agent 99 was calm under pressure and knew how to use her spy gadgets without causing them to malfunction, even when Maxwell unwittingly got in her way. In the picture on the “Get Smart” lunch box, let’s assume Maxwell’s weapon would have missed the target for any number of reasons and that 99 would have initiated Plan B.

Today’s spy shows spotlight strong, resourceful female characters. In “The Americans” (FX, 2013–­present), Soviet KGB officer Elizabeth Jennings (Keri Russell) works undercover as an American citizen in 1980s-era Washington, DC. Confident and bold, Elizabeth dedicates herself to collecting intelligence by any means necessary, including deception, violence, and sexuality. Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes), a Central Intelligence Agency officer in “Homeland” (Showtime, 2011–present), displays single-minded determination and bravery in her efforts to thwart terrorist attacks against the United States. Kalinda Sharma (Archie Panjabi), the sleek, mysterious investigator on “The Good Wife” (CBS, 2009–present), is quick on her feet and holds her own in a fight. (What I wouldn’t give for action figures of these ladies.)

Unlike today’s examples of successful spy shows with female leads, the early series spun off from male-dominated programs were short lived. Either the shows were too provocative for their time or their production values were just plain poor. (Anne Francis earned a Golden Globe for “Honey West,” but “U.N.C.L.E.” wasn’t winning any awards.) Subsequently, many of the licensed character toys are difficult to find. Or are they hiding in plain sight? The Strong appeals to readers to provide any information resulting in their capture.

For instance, I spotted this dapper rabbit, attired in a suit and carrying both a satchel and a furled red umbrella. His black eyeglass frames remind me of Bunny Rabbit, one of the stars of Captain Kangaroo. The coils on his neck aren’t a fashion statement, but rather, a spring that lets his head nod with only a slight touch. Today almost any celebrity, athlete, or television character has a bobblehead version of him or herself, but nodding figures are nothing new. The rabbit comes from about 1945 and the museum owns hundreds more nodders (as they’re sometimes called)—many from the turn of the 20th century.

Rabbits play key roles in several children’s literature classics, too. The soothing bedtime ritual that the little bunny goes through in Goodnight Moon has set the standard for generations of sleepy kids. And it’s hard to top the persistent maternal love expressed in the story of The Runaway Bunny. Sentimental adults (like me) may find themselves moved to tears by the story of The Velveteen Rabbit, though I think this well-loved stuffed animal actually looks more like the title character than the recent licensed products do.

Growing up, I never read the original stories about Uncle Wiggily Longears that first ran in the Newark (New Jersey) News between 1910 and 1946, but I certainly enjoyed rounds of the Uncle Wiggily board game. But my favorite rabbit stands as none other than that rascally Bugs Bunny. As a less-than-assertive kid, I admired Bugs’ endless smarts that let him triumph over every challenge and outwit Elmer Fudd, Daffy Duck, and Yosemite Sam. Why he could even beat Porky Pig at checkers or dress up to pass as the Statue of Liberty. I only hope that I can prove as clever when it comes time to fence off the tender perennials in my garden beds from the real rabbits who hope to turn them into dinner!

Margaret Woodbury Strong, The Strong’s founder, would probably have agreed that smaller items are often best, as she remains known in part for her vast collection of miniatures. As a child, Margaret traveled the world with her parents, both avid collectors. Her father loved coins, while her mother favored 19th-century Japanese objects d’art. During these travels, Margaret learned the benefit of collecting miniatures, since the smaller the items, the more she could fit into her luggage. As an adult she recalled, “I was allowed to carry a small bag to put my dolls and toys in, and to add anything I acquired on the trips. Consequently, my fondness for small objects grew.”

Margaret certainly wasn’t alone in her appreciation for tiny objects. For centuries, people of all ages have been fascinated by miniatures, although the reason behind the fascination remains unclear. In his article “The Fascination of the Miniature,” author Steven Milhauser surmises that miniatures simply charm us as diminutives of familiar objects. Furthermore, they don’t inspire fear the way some large-scale items do (imagine standing before a T-Rex skeleton). Milhauser’s theory seems fitting among adults, particularly those who collect items such as thimbles, souvenir spoons, or pins, or who enjoy furnishing dollhouses and miniature rooms, but what about kids? Children have long enjoyed miniatures, which raises the question; do children enjoy miniatures purely because the objects are little or simply because they’re more proportionate to small hands in this adult-sized world?

Kids have long been drawn to playthings that are small enough to hold in a hand or hide in a pocket, including Noah’s ark play sets, Schoenhut’s Humpty Dumpty Circus, and Fisher-Price Little People. During the 1980s, Micro Machines and Polly Pocket both enjoyed widespread fame. The latter can still be found at your local toy store, although Polly’s grown just a bit taller over the years. More recently, Squinkies have taken the toy market by storm. These wee, gummy vinyl figures average less than an inch in height and come in a variety of colorful forms depicting almost any popular character you can envision—animal or human—ranging from the Disney princesses to the cast of Star Wars (as you might imagine, the Squinkies version of Darth Vader is far less intimidating). But beware! The accessories that accompany these itty bitty creatures are considerably larger. For instance, if you plan to purchase the Squinkies Adventure Mall Surprize as a gift, you’ll need a standard size shopping cart to carry it out of the store and a large roll of wrapping paper because this play set will not fit in any gift bag. I’ve tried.

For as long as I can remember, miniatures have fascinated me, but I’m inclined to think my own interest stems from nostalgia more than anything else. As a child, I lovingly admired a menagerie of tiny glass animals my grandmother displayed on her windowsill, an image that still springs to mind whenever she’s mentioned. Not long after she died, I received the tiniest of gift boxes. Inside lay a small glass pig—my favorite of all the animals—crafted of pink glass with a perfectly curled tail. The tiny swine brought a smile to my face and could only be described with one word: charming. This treasured gift served as further proof that little things really can have a big impact.