Looking for Legos

Growing up, Legos were a large aspect of sibling culture. We spent hours designing, building, and creating. In reality, though, a majority of our effort was towards looking for the right pieces, which was boring and sometimes frustrating.

Because of the monotony, I used to think a Lego scanner would be a great improvement upon life. Fourth grade me planned it out and drew a basic prototype: hand-held, with a screen to choose from options or even sketch the piece you were looking for; you would scan it over the area you were searching and it would notify you when the piece was found. It was going to be a lifesaver.

In many ways, I still think it is a cool, practical idea, but it represents on a small scale the simplicity we trade for convenience, the focus on production, the emphasis on speed and output. Legos, and the slow raking, raking process was always therapeutic after a long day.  It gave me time of mindless action. It forced companionable time with my brothers (the Lego box was always in their room). It required recognizing the process of creation. It provided greater satisfaction by the completed project.

Maybe hours of children’s lives could be saved and thousands of dollars generated through a Lego-finding device, but I am tentative to take away those boring, monotonous moments. Maybe for most people the sacrifice is nothing, but there is still something wonderful to me in that obnoxious, nostalgic sound of Lego against Lego.

What Lego scanners do we have now, keeping us from empty moments for free thought, for reflection, for serendipity?