The danger of idealizing the past

It’s easy to dislike Al the toy collector, the villain of Toy Story 2.

He’s sneaky and underhanded, sinking so low as to create a diversion to steal Woody from Andy’s mom.

He’s an unctuous, overweight balding man who falls asleep on his couch with orange Cheeto stains all over his fingers.

And he dresses up like a chicken (aka “The Chicken Man”), symbolizing his cowardice.

But as I was watching Toy Story 2 (again) with my daughter, I realized his repellent traits go beyond the superficial.

Al represents the worst of being a man-child. He’s what happens when you carefully craft an idealized version of the past and cling to it at all costs. He refuses to grow up and be an adult.

But before we judge Al harshly, we should realize we could all become him. Maybe we are him right now.

The central theme of the Toy Story trilogy is that change is hard, physically and emotionally. Andy growing up forces the toys to confront their own usefulness and mortality over and over.

But Al provides a tantalizing alternative to this reality. Al’s collection promises immortality by never changing. In this world, Woody and his compatriots from the classic Woody’s Roundup show could always stay together and stay the same by appearing in a museum. Forever.

Woody is tempted to join this world, especially after hearing Cowgirl Jessie’s sob story of getting discarded by her previous owner. If Woody never has to grow close to another owner again, he’ll never have to face heartbreak.

Of course, an overly safe existence is stripped of anything that makes life actually meaningful. A life behind glass is free of surprises, but unfulfilling. It’s like the quote says: “A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”

Spoiler alert: Woody chooses an uncertain future over an idealized past. He doesn’t even know if Andy will play with him again, but taking that risk is still better than strangers gawking at him from arm’s distance.

The lesson we can learn from Al the toy collector is that the only thing worse than change, is not changing at all.


[Want to hear more from me? Sign up for my weekly Tinyletter]