Creepy Classics & Monster Bash News

Growing up my love of monster movies was all-to-well known by my parents, sister, grandparents, aunt, uncles, and friends (who I tried to get to tag along with my love of this stuff).

My parents had to sift through the TV GUIDE with its pen-marked monster movies with magic markers that bled through the pages. My sister had become aware that touching my monster magazines and comic books was off-limits without my oversight. My grandparents endured my whooping and pointing out "monster stuff" in department stores and newspaper stands.

This led to the gift giving at my birthdays and Christmases. They were all so tolerant and giving in feeding my interests. Amazing they put up with this over enthusiastic kid. But, thankfully, they did.

Unfortunately, only a few of these items survived for 50 plus years. The few items that are still with me, that may have spent decades in my parents attic, are beloved. I've mentioned a few of these items in past essays, but not all. Sure, I've sought out and re-bought many collectibles I had as a kid. But there's something very special about the actual items that I had in hands at a young age that are still with me. Touching them, I can almost feel the years peel away. There I am, my crew cut, my striped shirt, jeans with holes in the knees admiring these things at age eight or eleven.

These Monster Kid relics have magic in them. The love of my relatives, the things I cared about and still do. They have a special life of their own.

A four foot long green and black striped snake that sits on a shelf near my office. A big, oversize, heavy rubber King Kong jiggler still gapes (or apes) at me from a basement shelf. I still have (with the original boxes) a Monster Maker and Marx Dinosaur play set. A seven inch Frankenstein rubber jiggler figure. A red Genie Monster Magnet, shaped like a horseshoe, that could even pick up a metal Tonka dump truck when I was a kid. Those treasures are still with me.

Of course, I had loads more, that have vanished over the years. My Aurora models didn't seem to make one of our moves. Then, of course, those later years in high school, college, or beginning work at radio stations...the emphasis that happens to many boys....girls and cars took over as the interest. Much of those loved toys fell forgotten and lost. Of course the regret settled in just a few years later. When you think to yourself, "Hey wait a minute! I love that stuff." The collecting resumes with the powerful fever of a kid in adult's clothing.

The survivors are those few cherished items and all of my relatives that put up with me.

Ron Adams 
Ligonier, PA 
June 2025