I've
always been intrigued by the stories behind things. Call it the writer in me
but I love hearing about how something, or someone, became what they are today.
People, songs, books, movies, ideas - pretty much anything really. I have a
book on my shelf about how a bunch of foods came into being (anyone want to
know the story behind the creation of Dr Pepper?!). So, when I was at the
library last week and happened across a book titled 'Toys! Amazing Stories Behind Some Great Inventions' (by Don
Wulffson, if you're interested), needless to say, I borrowed it.
It's
been fascinating reading. Really, really fascinating. But what's astounded me
the most are the number of ridiculously popular toys which have come about
through utter failure. Their creators weren't trying to make toys. They were
trying to invent other things, and failed.
The
slinky? You know, that brilliantly coloured spring we've all spent far too much
time watching 'walk' down stairs, mindlessly juggling from hand to hand (or, if
you're a parent, untangling...)? Failure. Richard James, a navy-hired engineer,
was supposed to be inventing something to stabilise the navigational
instruments on ships. He never did succeed at that. But he did accidentally
knock a big spring off a shelf and watch in fascination while it walked down
his books to the floor. Long story short, he sold it as a toy and within a few
years, he and his wife were millionaires.
Mr
Potato Head? Created by a frustrated father who’d tried every trick in the book
and still couldn't get his kids to behave at dinner time.
Silly
putty? Not quite what the US Army had been after when they commissioned the
General Electric Company to find a synthetic replacement for making gas masks,
boots and tires during WW2. Bouncy, able to withstand cold without cracking and
heat without melting, super stretchy - but as far as the army were concerned,
utterly useless.
Failures,
all of them. And yet, I doubt they'd call themselves that. Nor any of the
millions of children world over who've played with the toys they created.
Failure
is rarely the big deal we make of it. (Or, perhaps, given the stories behind
these toys, failure really is the big
deal we make of it, because, believe me, making millions off a failure sounds
like a pretty good deal to me!)
We
all have areas we feel like failures. Maybe it's as a spouse, a parent, a
friend, an artist, a daughter or son, a teacher, an inventor, or a billion
other things. But you know what's great?
It's
this: feeling like a failure, doesn't
mean you are.
I'm
certain these inventors (and this father) felt like absolutely giving up some
days. They’d tried everything and failed. They had no idea how truly successful
their failures were. And neither do you.
One
other thing I've noticed from this book? Many of the failures' potentials as
toys were noticed not by the inventor themselves (who probably still had their
heads in their hands, and their jobs on the line) but by someone close to them.
A wife, a friend, a random person they chatted to at a party. I know I've said
it before (see http://aheartfulofhope.blogspot.com.au/2015/02/watch-out-shes-good.html), but never underestimate the power of your words. You might be the
one who proves to someone just how not
a failure they truly are.
Next
time you feel like a failure? Remember, they weren’t – and neither are you.
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