Astroboy and Me

He has had a resurgence of popularity because his animated show was redone in the 1980s and again in 2003. I was unaware of this when I found the toy figure in a video store in 2004. I recognized him immediately, his pointy hair, bare robot chest, and jet-propelled boots, spewing flames as he flew through the galaxy.

I had no idea that this icon of my childhood is considered the forerunner of the Japanese style of animation called anime. I didn’t know that he was inducted into the Robot Hall of Fame in 2004.

All I knew is that seeing this animated robot hero, that I watched religiously on glorious 1960’s black and white television, brought back a flood of memories. I launched an immediate search on the Internet to learn that Astroboy has a following worthy of a rock star. I downloaded his theme song for my computer, and pictures for my desktop. I bought a coffee mug with his image. My son, a huge fan of DragonBall Z, could see the family resemblance of his heroes to mine.

Why my fascination with Astroboy? Maybe it was the exciting glimpse into the future. Maybe it was the thrill of seeing a child-like hero so empowered. Maybe it was the fact that, underneath it all, I could sense, or imagine I sensed, sadness in his robot heart. Sadness for not being human, sadness for not having a real family, sadness for the evil he was forced to fight. Built to “replace” a boy who died, he was eventually rejected by his father. This was a sadness that I shared, growing up in the shadow of alcoholism.

Whatever the reason, Astroboy was my kindred spirit. In those days, rare were the toy-tie-ins that riddle the marketplace today. I had to be content with pretending a tiny plastic basketball player, hands outstretched over his head, was my toy Astroboy. I carried him all over, my secret companion – perhaps a psychologist today might call him a literal symbol of my inner child. And my biggest secret was the fact that his official birthday, April 7, is the same as mine.

So, when I say the toy figure in the video store, I had to buy it. A far cry from my plastic basketball figure, this Astroboy even has light-up flamed feet. He now flies over my desk, appearing to be just another of the quirky decorative items I have.

But on April 7, as I celebrate that big 5-0 birthday, he’s coming down from his perch and going into my pocket.

Happy birthday to Astroboy, happy birthday to me.

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