If you remember Charlie-in-the-Box, King Moonracer, Bird Fish and the train with square wheels, then you know the Land of Misfit Toys.
It was always my favorite part of the animated holiday show, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. During the original version of the show, the misfit toys are left on their island, forever to be misfits. The public howled at their fate, so a new scene was shot where the misfit toys were retrieved by Santa as his first stop on Christmas Eve.
I think I’ve always lived in the Land of Misfit Toys, or perhaps more appropriately, the Land of Misfits.
This is not a rebuke of life here in the Northwest, but rather a celebration. It was confirmed again the other day at the Bite of Seattle. Tens of thousands of Northwesterners rain down on the Seattle Center every July to stuff themselves silly with food. In case you’re wondering, it was Lamb Sliders, Crab and Shrimp Chowder, Elephant Ears, and Strawberry Shortcake from Beringers for me, along with some samples of Vietnamese vermicelli and chicken along with a lot of delicious Russian dumplings.
But the real star of the day is always the Misfit Toys that live here. I’ve been to many parts of the country where you are encouraged to assimilate. In Texas, you don’t dare go to a mall without being all primped and proper in your best going to the mall attire. In south Florida, it might mean a boob job and a couple other jobs on the side.
In Washington, it can be darned near anything imaginable. I can’t even begin to tell you all the Misfits I saw last weekend, all walks of life having the time of their lives, celebrating food, sun and fun together.
In Washington, you can’t possibly have any event of any size without the Misfit Toys showing up.
It took me an awful long time to realize that I was actually a Misfit Toy. I had to go to Florida to find out. I learned, and to more than a bit of consternation and with a fair amount of umbrage, that I was something of a geek.
There doesn’t seem to be a lot of geekdom in Florida. I was not among my own for a large part of the time. Thankfully, I had married someone who was geekier than I ever could be, which made my own geekiness seem a bit tame. But still, I was alone among the flock of assimilators.
It’s kind of funny, being in this situation. You begin to think that you can be just like everyone else. For a time, you even give it the old college try. You try to fit in as best as you can, living what Bealls (a big store chain there) calls the “Florida lifestyle.”
I had a Florida lifestyle, but I don’t think it was what everyone thought the Florida lifestyle should be. I didn’t really party like the others. I wouldn’t be caught dead at a beach or at Peanut Island in a swimsuit. I certainly wouldn’t want hundreds of others with glorious Florida bodies to see y fat white ass stuffed into a suit there.
I’m not particularly fond of margaritas. I confess that I don’t even like tropical drinks much more these days. My days of pina coladas, mai tais and daiquiris are long gone. Hell, I had to look up daiquiris to even spell it.
Lord knows I tried to fit in. But there’s just something about the Florida lifestyle that wasn’t meshing well. I think it’s because no matter what I did, I was still a Misfit Toy.
Being a misfit in in a land where everyone seems to fit in somewhere isn’t a lot of fun. I always identified with the train with the square wheels in Rudolph. Charlie-in-the-box never worked for me. Neither did A Dolly for Sue, you know, that doll that never looked like she had any issues. Turns out (and I had to research this) that she had abandonment issues.
Maybe I had more in common with her than I thought.
So what have I discovered in this ongoing journey of mine? First I’ve found that once you’re a Misfit Toy you can’t ever really fit in with the other toys.
As you know, when you’re not among your own, you stand out like a sore thumb, or in this case, a Misfit Toy. While others all zig or zag together, you zag, then zig all on your own. No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to fit in.
It’s a no win situation. If you try, you lose who you are. You come across as phony, which is funny, because that’s what you thought others were being when you were still on the outside looking in. So assimilating is not the answer, unless you want to become something you’re not.
Eventually, even if you manage to round those wheels, they’re going to go back to being square at some point. Unwillingly, and often without noticing, you’ll say or do something that shows you still have at least one square wheel in a world that wants them all round. You’re a misfit all over again.
There’s only one true solution. Go back to the Land of Misfit Toys. It’s not that you blend in there; all misfits stand out in their own right. But you are among your own where you are no longer judged and you don’t have to be something you’re not.
Yes, the Northwest, and specifically Portland and Seattle, is the Land of Misfit Toys. I think we should be damned proud of the fact, too. In fact, I think we should change the state slogan (which is not official anyway) from “WASHINGTON – The Evergreen State” to “WASHINGTON – Land of the Misfit Toys.”
Hey, if Illinois can be the “Land of Lincoln Logs,” I think we can certainly be equally proud of being a bunch of Misfit Toys.
In the Emerald City, wondering where that Sue’s old playmate is hanging out these days… I hear she’s a real doll!
– Robb