Saturday Morning Rewind: A Visit to Lost Toys and Comics

Inside Lost Toys and Comics — where memory lives in blister packs and it always feels like that weekend you never forgot.

by S.C.

The first thing that hits you is the smell. Not musty, but specific — that mix of old cardboard, plastic, and comic pages. It’s the scent of toy stores with flickering fluorescents, unopened plastic, and the packaging you tore into before the car ride home. There’s a feeling too, like time slows down for a second and you’re eight years old again, walking into somewhere magical.

Part toy chest, part time machine, part KB Toys on the best Saturday of your life — Rob Maurus has built more than just a shop. Lost Toys and Comics is a portal to the past, a place where old ghosts live in blister packs and every corner holds a memory you didn’t know you’d forgotten.

Ghosts in Blister Packs

Rows of blister-carded figures stretch across the wall, untouched by time. These aren’t just carded — they’re box fresh. No fading, no bends. Just plastic windows perfectly preserving the toy aisle you remember.

The Rambo costume caught my eye, next the Rambo counter standee behind it. Yellow Rock ‘em Sock ‘em ring, WWF ring off to one side, comics everywhere. This place doesn't recreate nostalgia it’s built from it.

Things You Didn’t Know You Missed

There’s Voltron, still in box. Captain Power just beneath him. The figures you thought you’d only ever see in grainy family photos or old catalogs collected from thrift stores and eBay.

A lineup of Bucky O’Hare and friends greets you from a lower shelf — bright-eyed, loud, weird. They still look like a fever dream from Saturday morning TV, and seeing them here feels like accidentally opening the right drawer in your old bedroom.

Strange and Proud

Some shelves are chaos — in the best way. Mutant food fighters. Cartoon logic in plastic form. This shop doesn’t hide the weird. It celebrates it.

Then you hit the toothpaste. Slimer Bubble Gum Flavor, still sealed. Ecto-Plazm play gel beside it, glowing like it never left the ’80s. No shelf talker needed. You just stop and grin.

The Ones That Stayed With You

A full row of Battle Beasts — perfectly arranged, matched by color. I never owned them growing up. But this trip, I picked out a few. Finally.

Barnyard Commandos still show their teeth. One clutches a rocket launcher like it’s serious. They were funny then, and they’re still funny now.

Masters of the Universe monsters stand quietly beside a twisted plastic tree. Just there. Watching. Like they always were.

The Owner Who Remembers

What really makes this place special is Rob. Every visit feels like catching up with an old friend — trading stories about the toys we chased, the ones that got away, and the movies that raised us. Both times we’ve visited, it’s been with my brothers — and the last time, our mom came too. For a little while, we were just kids again, wide-eyed and wandering through the past.

Why Places Like This Still Matter

Lost Toys isn’t trying to rebrand nostalgia. It just preserves it. Quietly. Honestly. Every figure, every section. If you grew up in the ’80s or ’90s — or if you’re just looking for something that hits you with that wave of nostalgia — it’s worth the visit.

For a lot of us — adults who still collect toys — there’s judgment. People think toys are childish, or not worth caring about. But they’re wrong. Toys are something more. They take us back to a time when our imaginations felt endless, when creativity came naturally — not as a job or a task, but as play. We’d mash together entire worlds, build new characters out of cardboard scraps, and dream up epic universes where anything was possible.

Walking into Lost Toys is like stepping straight back into those days — when the biggest thrill was finding the figure from that one wild commercial, or spotting something your friend swore they saw at the mall. It’s a chance to recover what was lost: the toy you let your cousin borrow and never got back, the one that broke in half, the one you thought you’d never see again.

And yeah, it’s okay to still be into toys. It’s more than okay. It means that part of you — the part that dreamed, built, imagined — is still alive.

Do yourself a favor — go see Lost Toys & Comics in person. You won’t just buy a toy or comic; you’ll take a few steps back in time. The address is:

Lost Toys & Comics

451 Route 25A, Unit 10

Miller Place, NY 11764