I’m the dog. You can be the wheelbarrow.
Surprisingly, this 22-street microcosm––where the object of the game is to become the shrewdest plutocrat with the biggest pile of loot––was derived from “The Landlord’s Game,”an austere 1904 object lesson about the evils and injustices of capitalism.
Since its 1934 debut, Monopoly has become the best-selling board game in the world with over 250 million sets sold in 41 languages, including a Braille version for the visually impaired. The iconic graphics and comic mascot, “Uncle Pennybags” (above) have defined this time-honored classic for over 65 years.
Award winning poet Connie Wanek succinctly captures the magic of the game in this poem from her book, “On Speaking Terms” (Copper Canyon Press, 2010). You can read it below, or click here to hear Garrison Keillor perform it on The Writer’s Almanac.
We used to play, long before we bought real houses.
A roll of the dice could send a girl to jail.
The money was pink, blue, gold as well as green,
and we could own a whole railroad
or speculate in hotels where others dreaded staying:
the cost was extortionary.
At last one person would own everything,
every teaspoon in the dining car, every spike
driven into the planks by immigrants,
every crooked mayor.
But then, with only the clothes on our backs,
we ran outside, laughing.