My brother Aaron surprised me by alerting me to the continued production of the much beloved Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine. My first impulse was to buy it to enjoy during the horribly hot and humid August summer, but then the inner naysayer responded that it would not be used enough to justify a purchase, that I would have to find a place to store it, that the refrigerator already makes crushed ice . . . but still, Snoopy is so cute, and the shovel! Everyone loves the shovel until it breaks.
It is somewhat pathetic that products invoke such powerful nostalgic longings. I still miss my hometown produced Milky the Marvelous Milking Cow; I can still hear her moo. O Kenner, where have all my plastic childhood memories gone?