Searching For The U.S.S. Flagg: The Toy I Never Got For Christmas
By: Billy Doidge Kilgore
Tags: Christmas Gifts, Toys, Toys And Collectables, Parenting, Nostalgia

By Billy Doidge Kilgore

On the front of the massive box, the U.S.S. Flagg cut through ocean waves with an explosion of red and orange in the dark sky. Engines roared and missiles blasted off in my imagination as I landed a jet between white stickers marking the runway. Over seven feet long, the aircraft carrier was covered with radars, cables, and missiles; it seemed to have come out of a fantasy. I envisioned myself posing G.I. JOE action figures on the control tower and, like the kid in the commercial, holding the small microphone and shouting: “GET READY TO LANCH!”

The battle raging in my mind was interrupted by my mother’s voice.

“What did you find?” she asked.

My eyes directed her to the top shelf.

“Oh, don’t even think about it,” she said.

“Why not?”

“It costs one hundred dollars.”

A lump formed in my throat and my shoulders drooped.

“What else did you put on your Christmas list?”

I didn’t answer. All I could think about was the giant battleship.

Three decades later, scrolling through my newsfeed, a meme appeared with a picture of the U.S.S. Flagg. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I read the bold words. “TODAY MARKS THE THIRTY FOURTH YEAR I DIDN’T GET A USS FLAGG FOR CHRISTMAS.” I chuckled and couldn’t resist clicking the share button. The meme led to a Google search, sending me down a YouTube rabbit hole. For half an hour, I watched grown men showing off their aircraft carriers. It felt like a strange Gen X therapy session.

The next day, I ate lunch with a couple of dads from my son’s weekly playgroup and asked if they remembered the U.S.S. Flagg. They grinned and nodded as they shared how much they begged their parents for it. One dad admitted to praying for it.

When Hasbro released the U.S.S. Flagg in 1985, it was the largest G.I. Joe playset ever made. Decades later, it still strikes me as huge and represents the excess of the 80’s. The first time I saw it was in a commercial between Saturday morning cartoons and, soon after, on the top shelf of the toy aisle. Most boys I knew had G.I. Joe action figures and playsets but no one in my orbit had the U.S.S. Flagg. The price tag put it out of reach, leaving us to daydream about it, hoping it would magically appear on Christmas morning.

My interest in G.I. Joe expanded on my seventh birthday when my grandparents bought me a cable television package. It was the middle of the 80’s and cable TV was not in my young parent’s budget. In the afternoons, I laid my scrawny body on the living room carpet to watch G.I. Joe: Real American Hero. I loved seeing my favorite Joes — Duke, Shipwreck, Snake Eyes — battle their nemesis, Cobra. I was full-on YO JOE!

Last March, when COVID-19 struck and the world turned upside down, I found nostalgia to be an effective way to escape reality. I scrolled through eBay, searching for the U.S.S. Flagg, considering buying a used one. Prices ranged from two hundred dollars for one missing parts to four thousand dollars for one nearly complete.

While scrolling, I imagined playing with my boys—landing jets on the massive deck, posing action figures in the control tower, shouting orders into the microphone. I fell deep into the well of nostalgia. Everything wrong with the world faded as the narrow walls enclosed me in a sentimental bliss.

I don’t want to go off on a tangent about nostalgia, boring you with my rumination. But I’m genuinely curious about it. We are the only creatures on this planet that long for the past, recalling it through a warm, fuzzy lens. Why are we drawn to nostalgia? What purpose does it serve? And I often find myself wondering—when does nostalgia become unhealthy? As I searched for the U.S.S. Flagg, I also wondered where the seven-foot toy would fit in my modest home. A friend suggested it double as a coffee table.

While I was thinking about purchasing the aircraft carrier, a dad from playgroup sent me a picture of one he stumbled upon in a toy museum. I felt a tingle in my gut as I scanned the gigantic ship, noticing it was missing several parts and roughed-up by the hands of many children. Whatever glory it had was gone. I wondered if mine would suffer the same fate.

Two summers ago, my parents brought my childhood toys for my sons to play with and, at first, I felt the warm fuzziness of nostalgia. I enjoyed watching my boys play with the same toys I spent endless hours with. But this feeling quickly passed and, now, I have little interest in them; they are piled along with others in storage bins.

After tossing around the idea of buying the battleship, I decided not to. Memories of the USS Flagg will always be with me and I imagine a part of me will always wonder what it would have been like to play with. I will always be the little boy looking up at the glossy box on the top shelf, but, now, as an adult, I’ve grown weary of nostalgia; it is too hollow to satisfy my heart.