He was a role model, a protector, a man of action, a man’s man – GI JOE! No, not the mini-smurf sized abberation that came later, but the real McCoy. 12 inches of the American Dream!
He was the first action hero. Yeah, plenty of girls out there will point out that Ken was around long before him, but Ken was never a Sailor, a Marine, a Sergeant or a Pilot. He never went into space in a Gemini capsule, nor did he ever drive a tank or fly on a jet-pack. GI Joe was the personification of action – true grit!
A few things always puzzled me though…the guy could not hold his pistol correctly and couldn’t aim his rifle if his life depended on it. But I’d do my darndest to wedge the pistol on his index finger or twist his torso into an un-natural position in order to get the shot down-range. But that didn’t really matter much, because when push came to shove, GI Joe always got the last laugh.
I was fortunate to have been able to spend a few years growing up abroad in London. Their version (err…RIP OFF!!!) of the action hero was called Action Man. My dad bought me one…once. Once was enough. This dude was the epitome of cheese, made from paper thin plastic and limbs that would break off like brittle twigs. Nope, there’s no replacing good old American quality. There was only one GI Joe.
Now years down the road, as we approach the holiday season, I fondly look back to the many Christmas mornings when my brother and I would toss every other gift aside in search of that rectangular shoe-box shaped bundle of adventure. Ralphie might have had his Red Ryder, but it could never compare to my Real American Hero!
Tags: GI Joe Action Hero
…and Barbie admired him too.
My Barbie’s used to cat fight to get a piece of their very own G.I. Joe action! What self assured, blond bombshell would even dream of giving a second glance to the pretty boy next door, sleeves of his Lacoste sweater tied neatly in front of his chest, equipped with tennis racquet tucked gently into his perfectly manicured hand? Not in my Barbie feigning days! My girls liked big guns. They’d sell their souls in an instant to get G.I. Hottie into the powder pink convertible, then back to the three story townhouse (with elevator) for an evening of dress up fun. Going up?