It is an understatement to say that the last year has been challenging. It’s been a lot and I’m only just beginning to resurface from residual fear, adrenaline, sadness, and loss. But there was something about monumental change that froze time in a way where my values, sense of character and moral standards felt suspended in front of me. I could pluck them from space and gently turn them around in my hands to inspect them more closely. In front of me, I could disassemble them, reexamine them and then put them back together.
Everything felt open to change.
Naturally, this brings me to my lifelong love of Buzz Lightyear. In the logical sequence of things, after contemplating the meaning of life, I moved on to questioning my love of Buzz. Since 1995, a Buzz Lightyear doll has traveled with me from childhood bedroom to dorm room to my current dresser. His laser beam light and sound still work. His wings don’t pop out anymore because of a damaged spring and I don’t think he glows in the dark anymore despite how long I let him recharge in the sunlight. Still, he’s a prized possession. And for the last 13 years he’s kept company with a Tippi Hedren Barbie Doll from Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds,” who rests in his arms. (This is another loved object and I’m glad that Tippi and Buzz have become such good companions). But the question remains: Why do I love Buzz Lightyear so much?
The most obvious answer is that I’m a fool for any situational comedy where a character from another world doesn’t understand basic cultural norms (e.g. Splash, Elf, Enchanted, Mork & Mindy, etc). It’s a “fish out of water” trope that gets me every time. Toy Story fits that bill because of Buzz Lightyear’s initial delusion that he is a real-life space ranger. I will always quote Buzz silently when I meet a guy who is unpleasant and think, “You are a sad, strange little man and you have my pity. Farewell!”
After thinking about Buzz Lightyear more deeply than one should admit, I realize that I am most transfixed by his character after he falls. He begins as someone with honor, duty and a feeling of importance defined by being a Space Ranger. He starts as a superhero who believes he can fly, but then he sees his toy commercial, and is faced with the truth. Yet, with a last ounce of hope he leaps off the banister toward an open window, only to plummet to the ground and break to the sad soundtrack of Randy Newman.
He completely breaks, hopelessly drinking too much tea with Mrs. Nesbitt and resigned to being blown up with a rocket strapped to his back. But then he does something remarkable.
In the face of hopelessness, Buzz Lightyear makes the decision to find acceptance and new purpose. He saves the day and rescues Woody because he is able to navigate his grief and rediscover himself through a different lens. And that type of bravery makes him the true hero of the story.
So, I think of Buzz as I take a close look at my truths, values and losses in the Viewfinder. If you are brave enough to question your own story, the big fall marks the beginning of something. On the other side are new best friends, hope, and at least 3 sequels, better than the first. To infinity and beyond.
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