People will collect almost anything. No matter how stupid, insignificant or worthless it is, someone will want to hoard it and claim it has “value”. Beanie Babies were once the kings of the earth, but now like the dinosaurs and 80’s action heroes, they have no use in society. I collect the coelacanth of the market, something that was thought to have gone extinct years ago but still lives on the fringe of the world. I am a Pez Collector.


Remember Twizzlers, Fun Dip, that candy spray that now has a Mexican wrestler mascot? These were fun, sugary treats you ate when you were four, and sometimes became a super market impulse buy to bring back some childhood nostalgia. Now imagine you needed every container, promotional piece, and discontinued product that had ever been associated with the brand, no matter how ridiculous or terrifying? That is my affliction. At current count, my collection totals over 300 dispensers, ten cardboard cases, four pens, three watches, and two race cars.

I grew up in a family of hoarders that claimed they were “collecting.” Before my house was cleaned out by Hurricane Sandy we had every Sports Illustrated and Newsweek since 1985 sitting in our basement. I inherited that gene and focused all my energy on “collecting.” First it started out small, an occasional Mickey Mouse from the supermarket, a Spiderman from the local butcher. It continued to escalate as I needed to be like daddy and complete my collection. In the 90s, each dispenser came with three or four different stem colors. I would make my mother drive to as many stores as possible to collect the whole rainbow of Donald Ducks.


By age 13, I had lost myself completely. My Bar Mitzvah theme was Pez Dispensers. At the time, I told myself I was mocking the whole “becoming a man” experience, but in reality I just wanted my own Mecca dedicated to the plastic that I loved. The centerpieces on the tables were four foot, cardboard Pez with heads ranging, from Yoda to Otie from Garfield. I made sure each character was actually a Pez dispenser, there were no cop outs from me. At the candle lighting ceremony, I handed everyone a Pez. My uncle got a hyena from the Lion King, I didn’t like him very much. I’m sorry to say there were no pictures of the event, though the Kippahs with the Pez design still exist.

I no longer proudly display the bulk of my collection, they sit in boxes at the back of my closet. In my childhood home I had them all set up on a bookshelf, in rows standing ten by fifteen. Being tiny pieces of plastic, they had a tendency to fall over from the slightest nudge. The problem is, when one would fall over, so would the one next to, ad infinitum, until they were all over the floor. When I had friends come over, they would jokingly threaten to knock them over. To this day, trying to knock over my Pez is the only thing that triggers me like a Tumblr feminist. Those stupid things take hours to set up. Don’t be that dick.


My Pez collecting has dwindled in recent years. It’s not that I want to stop collecting, but because Pez rarely releases new content. Everything is in a tin, neatly collected in one twenty dollar box. I recently splurged on a Psychedelic Eye, which for those of you not in the know, is a realistic hand holding an eyeball. I paid $250 for a piece of plastic, which sits on a shelf next to my college degree. I think the Pez was a better investment.

I’ve collected many things over the years; Transformers, trading cards, and for a bit, Neopets to sell on a black market (that’s a whole other story). Pez dispensers are the only thing that have stood the test of time, and I’m proud of my obsession. Every time I visit family in Boston I make sure to visit the Pez factory in Connecticut, and each and every time my childlike wonder sneaks out to the feeling of holding my first Darth Vader dispenser. As you grow older, don’t let the things of your childhood disappear, try to keep them with you.