A friend told me that the stick was recently inducted into the Toy Hall of Fame.

Now I never knew about the Toy Hall of Fame, but I was shocked that the stick made it in. As far as I can tell, there is no description regarding the type of stick, be it switch or 2-by-4, nor is there any description on the uses of the said stick.

It makes you wonder who was on the selection committee.

I can't imagine Santa's Elves voting the stick in, not with all the cool toys they make. Maybe the elves were busy and they asked the crew from the National Association of Home Builders.

No matter how you cut it, the stick is an odd and surprising choice, particularly in light of the radical toys we enjoyed as children and the wild gizmos you find on the shelves of your local department store.

For any stick believing itself worthy of Hall of Fame status, I have one word for you ... Legos!

Still, news of the stick's admission got me reminiscing about my own childhood.

Yes, I was a big fan of the stick. I used it when we played war, both ancient and modern. In my wildest fantasies I was King Arthur and the lowly stick was elevated to none other than Excalibur.

I was The Once and Future King!

Then there was the modern warfare that kids my age were so familiar with. The stick then became a gun and the neighborhood boys would run from house to house taking aim and yelling "Pak, pak, pak!"

Unlike most toys, the stick was surprisingly democratic. My father was a DIYer, so I had ready access to the best sticks in the neighborhood. My favorite was a scrap piece of Philippine mahogany; a Cadillac of a stick if ever there was one.

Still, for all the pride I took in my 1-by-2 crimson board, it was no better in battle than the fallen branch.

The stick was not only a toy of destruction. In the right hands and with the right tools, it was the ultimate creative vehicle. Wai'anae almost never rained, but when it did, it was typically torrential. Those days were a special time for my father and me; he would bring out the hand tools and together we would fashion crude boats to sail on the giant mud puddles that lined our street.

Yes, the stick played a critical role in my childhood. In fact, after careful consideration, it may have been more significant to me than the almighty Hot Wheel. You see, I have outgrown the Hot Wheel, but not the stick. When not teaching aspiring social workers, most my time is spent on the table saw with none other than my good friend, the mahogany board.

If as a child I found a neatly wrapped stick under the Christmas tree, I would have pitched a fit. Now in hindsight, it would have been the perfect present for a young child. In fact, it would be one heck of a gift for a grown man ... at least this grown man.

You see, a stick can take you places you never imagined, literally and metaphorically. Yes, the stick deserves its place in the Toy Hall of Fame and many other halls besides; a vote for the stick is not a vote for a toy, but a vote for possibility.

Michael C. DeMattos is on faculty at the University of Hawai'i Myron B. Thompson School of Social Work. He lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter and animals.