It was Christmas 1962 and I only had one wish: I needed advice on how to make Jimmy Murphy like me. So that meant I wanted the Magic 8-Ball, Mattel’s amazing creation that produced misty, cryptic answers to your yes-no questions in a little window on the globe’s base.

Me: “Does Jimmy Murphy like girls who wear lipstick?” Magic 8-Ball: “As I see it, yes.”Me: “Should I tell him I like him?” Magic 8-Ball: “My sources say no.”

I loved my Magic 8-Ball. It made navigating the treacherous waters of fifth grade so much easier and provided a sure and comforting compass. What’s more, if you didn’t like the Ball’s answer, you could ask over and over until you got the response you wanted. I used my Magic 8-Ball so often I completely wore it out and had to ask for another one for my birthday the next year. My question had changed to “How can I make Randy James like me?” but my desire for advice had not (changed, that is). And that desire still exists, to some degree, today.