Growing Up
Rebuilding with Lego
I love building with Lego. I have for most of my life. But I have a somewhat complicated relationship with Lego.
Growing up, my favorite set was the Lego Expert Builder Power Truck (set 8848 — thank you internet!) with a working steering wheel and truck bed which you could lift with a lever inside the cab. I would build it over and over, carefully following the instructions. I would also frequently take it apart to make things from my imagination. I remember well the flying ships with jets and lasers — sadly, I have no photos of these.
The strongest memory I have, sadly, is the time my dad came into my room, raging about something my brother and I did — I don’t remember what, just kids being kids — and threw me and the Legos I was playing with across the room, they scattered all over the room and the well designed box with compartments for each type of part was destroyed. I was shocked and hurt — both physically and emotionally. I was heartbroken and horrified for what had happened to my latest creation and for the box.
Jump forward a few years to just after my first marriage ended. I went a little crazy with the Lego Bionicles sets that had just been released. I probably should have been focusing on putting my life back together, but maybe that’s exactly what I was doing. I had lost myself in that marriage — I became someone who I didn’t recognize and wasn’t happy with. I gave up too much of myself. Building those ridiculous robots gave me something I could control, something I could build with my hands that worked exactly the way they were supposed to. Piece by piece. I was rebuilding something. It wasn’t just the Legos.
These days, I love building all sorts of sets and I love to display the sets I’ve collected and built. Maura and I also like to go to the used brick stores in town to buy bulk bricks — I like to build abstract sculptures and strange looking iPhone stands with them. I love the place it takes me, both when I’m following the step by step instructions, and when I’m free building the sculptures. Sometimes I get a little impatient when building by instructions, I’m anxious to get to the next step and anxious to see the finished product. When I’m free building I go into that other place, tapping into my creativity like the kid who built those weird little spaceships. It’s a fun place to escape to for a while.
Lego has become something new — not just an escape, but a way to connect. Maura and I build together, sometimes following instructions, sometimes just seeing what emerges from a pile of bricks. We’ve even had building sessions with friends. There’s something that happens when adults sit down and play with Lego — the potential awkwardness of adults playing with childish things together falls away and you meet each other at a different level. Childlike, unhurried, creative. It turns out that’s a pretty good place to connect from.
Lego has been there for me at some major turning points in my life. After my dad’s rage. After my first marriage ended. During the harder stretches of a long career. There’s something about the act of making something — anything — that reminds me that things can be put back together. And the shared joy of building, connecting — literally — over building blocks, is a wonderful place to be.
You don’t always need the instructions. You just need the bricks.