The Island of Lead-Based Toys

In 1964, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer debuted on television, and the special is still shown each year around the holidays. Burl Ives is the snowman narrator and sings some songs, and there’s an elf named Hermey who would rather be a dentist than make toys, and, of course, there’s Rudolph, whose dad covers up his bright red nose so the other reindeer won’t laugh and call him names. 

It’s a buddy movie, with Hermey and Rudolph hooking up when their perceived shortcomings are exposed, and they end up running away, whereupon they accidentally find the Island of Misfit Toys. As you can guess, unwanted toys live on the island — a cowboy that rides an ostrich, a misnamed Charlie-in-the-Box, a polka-dotted elephant, a squirt gun that shoots grape jelly, and various other toys with minor blemishes and oddities. 

Eventually, Rudolph and Hermey leave the island, but Rudolph comes back with Santa to save the misfits and deliver them to waiting children. That ending was a rewrite in response to a surprising number of viewers who really liked the characters. (Who can’t identify with minor blemishes and oddities?) You can even buy the Misfit Toys on the internet now, along with a DVD of the show, and you can give them to your kids during the holidays. 

Except you can’t. Why? Turns out there’s a hidden blemish, and it’s major: The Misfits are full of lead. Rudolph, Hermey, Santa, the Elves, Rudolph’s girlfriend Clarice, Burl Ives’ fat little snowman crooner, and seemingly every other toy sold by the major toy companies and their foreign manufacturing subcontractors have lead in them. Rudolph especially because the paints that have the most lead in them are the yellows and reds. The lead makes for a brighter red nose. 

Someone needs to contact Rankin-Bass. After all these years, this beloved TV special needs another rewrite. The toys must again be re-banished, never to come in contact with children again. Santa can’t fly them back because he doesn't have the proper lead-abatement gear, so they’ll probably just get boxed up, and UPS will air-drop them (I’m talking about literally pushing them out of the plane at 10,000 feet) to a remote location in Antarctica. 

We’ll call this new exile the Island of Lead-based Toys. It’s an abrupt new ending, sure, but it’s true to real life. Hollywood happy endings were so 1964. If you don’t like it, let’s not even start talking about when the toys discover the island is really an ice-flow, and global warming starts closing in… 

Real life has been equally ridiculous. Almost weekly, Mattel or some other toy company does damage control by sending another press release detailing another group of toys that contain lead. This has been going on since May. Things are so bad that I expect the next press release to read: “All products for children found to contain lead — Mattel cancels the holiday shopping season.” 

It probably won’t happen, but I never thought my kids would need hazmat suits to play with Dora or Elmo, either. For the last 60 years or so, toy manufacturers have been in the business of managing kids’ expectations about gift giving. “More is better” has been the dominant marketing message, and the merchandise has moved so successfully that the holiday shopping season is now a major economic indicator in this country. 

What’s scary is that Wall Street wants Johnny to get that Playstation 3 even more than Johnny does. That’s a lot of pressure on us parents. Even though many of us believe in pro-environmental and anti-materialistic messages like “conserve resources” and “want less,” they get flattened this time of year like a Hummer running down a Tickle-Me Elmo. 

Still, I think lots of parents would like to try to scale back the gifts. I know I would. It’s a horrendous situation, but maybe for those who think “less is more,” this lead scare is a window of opportunity. We can buy less and blame the toy companies. 

The problem is the precedent that’s been set. Disappointment will be huge. Switching to unpainted wooden toys is not exciting, nor is the prospect of constantly tweezing slivers. We could start college savings accounts for our kids, but that’s about as exhilarating as Santa leaving carbon credits in their stockings. 

I could try to convince my kids that their Christmas presents are the newly repaved Lake Street, or the new cool-looking pedestrian bridge over Highway 55 or — depending on how things go with the Minneapolis School Board — maybe even a new charter school! 

Or maybe I’ll just tell my kids that Hermey the Elf left them toothbrushes and floss under the tree and was kind enough to schedule dental appointments for them. Getting them to accept that will be like pulling their teeth myself.

The Serial Never Gets Stale

The week after our first child was born, my wife and I watched the entire first season of The West Wing on DVD. I tell myself we did it because our emotional vulnerability made us susceptible to a good drama. That, and newborns sleep a lot. Babies can, no lie, sleep 20 hours a day. Read Dr. Spock if you don’t believe me. 

We also have a son now, and I can’t remember if he was born during our viewing of The West Wing Season 4 or Season 5. After awhile, they all blend together and are hard to remember, aren't they? I’m talking about the TV shows, not the kids. 

The shock value of my son and daughter being born (nudity, bad language, adult situations, etc.) will not ever be forgotten. If we had it on home video, it would be rated NC-17. So why, when we admit with guilt what we were doing during those first precious days, are we not being chastised for our behavior? 

Instead of telling us we’re horrible people with out-of-whack priorities, people say things like, “Yeah, I've really been addicted to that new show Heroes,” or, “My son and I got caught up watching Prison Break last year,” and even, “I took time off work to finish watching the last two seasons of The Sopranos. Do you have coffee? Seems I forgot to sleep last night.” 

This collective insanity is the product of DVDs and Charles Dickens. Dickens, one of the most popular writers ever, released his stories in weekly or monthly serial form. The first installment of The Pickwick Papers was released in April of 1836, and the final installment of his last completed book, Our Mutual Friend, was released in November, 1865, 8 months before his death. 

It is said that American fans would stand on the docks in New York, waiting for his latest installments as they arrived by boat. Only after their serial release were Dickens’ stories compiled into books. 

Now, I’m not saying The West Wing is as good as Great Expectations, but doesn't this sound familiar? A very popular story is released weekly and is later compiled into a book. A very popular TV show is released weekly and later compiled on DVD. As a result, there are people waiting on front steps around the country for the mailmen to deliver the next Netflix, just like New Yorkers waiting for the boat to deliver the next chapter of A Tale of Two Cities. Hollywood is the ultimate copycat. 

Let me confirm that my wife and I are not horrible people – we’re just like all the other sheep being sucked in by good shows in a really convenient format. People are suckers for a good story and always have been. The convenience factor makes it even harder to resist. There’s a lot of garbage on TV, but most of what’s being released on DVD is the best of the best. Notice the absence of any reality TV in box sets. 

I do worry that casual TV watching is dead. Unlike a basic sit-com, enjoying most of these new shows depends upon seeing the episode before it. The Sopranos, Oz, Six Feet Under, Deadwood, Entourage, The Office, Prison Break, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Heroes; I've heard they’re great, but I can’t just randomly sit down and watch. I wouldn't have any idea what was going on. I might as well watch soap operas in Spanish, or worse, legislative committee hearings on C-SPAN. 

The categories are being redrawn. What kind of viewer are you? 

The Completely Obsessed Viewer - I watch when my shows air, rearranging my life to accommodate the schedule, never daring to break the routine. I camp out in front of Best Buy the night before any of the DVD box sets are released. I live for of the “bonus” or “extras” disks, and other than the trips to Best Buy, I don’t get out much. 

The Binge Viewer – I try to see the shows when they air, but I’m more focused on watching the DVDs in grueling marathon viewing sessions. I invite my friends, but most stop coming because they can’t endure it. Mail sits unopened. So do the window blinds. Appearance and personal hygiene during these sessions is a problem. 

The Casual Viewer – as stated before, moderation is no longer possible. 

The Non-Viewer - I give up completely because I have no idea what’s going on. I try occasionally to watch, but it is no use. I tell people that watching DVD box sets is a fad no different than collecting Beanie Babies, or following a low-carb diet, but people don’t listen. I live a normal, fulfilling life, and still, I feel left out. 

See? You’re either in or you’re out. You know or you don’t know. There is no in between. For us, I fear that our West Wing experience is a sign that our fate is sealed. Television has us in its clutches. 

Like the cast of Lost, we are in a strange world from which we cannot escape. Help us. We are afraid of what will happen if we don’t press the (play) button. We’re getting less and less interesting as people, less and less functional. Help us to live in the real world again. Help!