I was interviewing for an editorial position in a totally different industry when I first heard the term “toy district.” My soon-to-be new publisher was describing the neighborhood where I would wind up pursuing my craft for a good chunk of my career.

It was 1986, just a bit past mid-point in a decade that spawned a new demographic—Yuppies, an acronym for Young Urban Professionals. (We all wore “sneakers” and carried briefcases.) The New York Mets were at the top of their game, the world watched in horror as the Challenger exploded, a fourth TV network—Fox—was born, Nintendo games were being introduced to American kids and there was a hockey season.

My first brush with American International Toy Fair was in February that year, barely a month into the new job.

I say “brush,” because a person could barely take a step along 23rd Street between Avenue of the Americas and Fifth Avenue for what seemed like weeks, without tripping over some life-sized cartoon character, action figure or pair of dice. It was the same on either side of the street.

The gleaming Hasbro builiding, flags flapping wildly in the windy currents that seem to gather in that particular Manhattan canyon, occupied almost one side of the street; the International Toy Center, the other.

Or so it seemed to me, as I trekked from the Path station to my office on Madison Ave.

I even began to use the term myself to describe the location where I worked. Everyone seemed to know where it was: it was that little slice of Manhattan situated somewhere adjacent to, or maybe even in, Chelsea.

Eventually, I left the toy district for an editorial post in another location.

But my career path brought me back to the area in the late '90s and actually into the toy industry, as editor of Playthings, at the turn of the millennium.

The year was 2000. The presidential election was decided by the Supreme Court, the New York Mets were again at the top of their game (well, almost); the Internet had become such a dominant factor that America Online was buying one of the largest traditional media companies around—Time Warner; Yuppies were now aging boomers; Nintendo had spawned an industry that had changed the play habits of children worldwide; nobody was calling the area around a revitalized Madison Square Park, the toy district anymore; the Hasbro building wasn't totally Hasbro; the “toy building” was taking in non-traditional toy tenants. (Oh, and there was a hockey season.)

Yes, things had changed alright. And they still are.

Like it or not, change happens. In a trillion years, no one yet has been able to stop it. But in spite of a trillion years or more of change, folks will still balk at it, moan over it, get ferocious about it ...

Take the current flap over a possible change of venue for American International Toy Fair.

We have to wonder exactly what impact a change of venue would have on the essence of our industry.

We're about toys, no? About giving kids the tools to enjoy and enhance their childhoods, yes?

Or are we about a city or a building?

Hey, if we are about a city or a building, I'd say we're in the wrong business.