Sometime between adolescence and middle age, I began to notice that the world was not comfortingly constant, as I had naïvely supposed in my supremely innocent youth.  Things were changing, I saw, perhaps occasionally for the better, but for the most part otherwise, relative to my young standard of status quo—in other words, what I was used to—as the reference of "good."  When I was very young, of course, my personal world was confined to my home and neighborhood, and I could not begin to fathom events transpiring beyond its borders; I can report them to you here only as points of reference.

As I matured, my world expanded, and my comprehensive incomprehension of it was gradually replaced by a sense of overpowering powerlessness over events.  Moreover, my own developing interests—planets and stars instead of movie stars, butterflies instead of baseball cards, model planes and trains instead of camping and fishing, symphonies instead of Top-40 – diverged from those of most of my contemporaries.  Hence my sense of personal involvement with the world became rather detached, if not outright isolated.  I passed blissfully through the outrage of the McCarthy era, for example, without becoming more than vaguely aware that anything might be amiss.  Although I have since become much more in-touch with the workaday world, my own existence still sometimes seems a separate process.  It is as if I am a passenger on a bus, watching the scenery change as I move through it.  I still find myself gazing out that bus window, marveling at the way some things have progressed, how others have not, and how still others have apparently regressed.

I would be delighted to share with you a few glimpses through that window.  Older viewers may find it a nostalgic trip down "Memory Lane," while younger ones will probably find it amusing, maybe even fantastic.  I might as well begin at the beginning...

The day I am born...

• America has been at war for just over three years;

• food and fuel are rationed in the wealthiest country on earth;

• my father is serving in the U.S. Army Air Corps in Panama, bravely defending the Canal against wave after wave of kamikaze mosquitoes;

• Glenn Miller's plane disappears over the English Channel.

Not a very encouraging start.  Things had to get better!  But at least Dad isn't targeted by enemy fire, and I have no birth defects, and both of these make Mom happy.  She snips a tiny lock of my flaming red newborn's hair, and mails it to Dad—who may or may not be amused, there being no history of red hair in either his or Mom's family.

When I am just a wee sprout...

• America's longest governing President dies of a stroke three months into his fourth term;

• the atomic bomb has never been used;

• there is no such thing as a transistor;

• the nearest thing to a pocket calculator is a slide rule;

• the nearest thing to a computer is the Monroe Calculator;

• the nearest thing to a word processor is a manual typewriter;

• the nearest thing to e-mail is Western Union;

• the nearest thing to the Internet is ham radio;

• the nearest thing to a video game is a pin-ball machine;

• a cash register has dozens of keys, whirs and goes "ching;"

• surgeons wear white, not green, and the anesthetic of choice is ether;

• anesthesia for dental surgery is a novelty;

• your parents could tell you about having seen a dirigible on live television—except that there is no broadcast television;

• broadcasting means AM radio, period;

• the most stylish, enjoyable, and reliable way to travel is by train;

• choo-choo trains actually go "choo-choo;"

• a phonograph needle is actually a cactus needle;

• a record album is actually a hard-bound album, containing a collection of two or more 78-r.p.m. shellac discs, 8 of which are required for a recording of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony;

• there is no rock 'n' roll; swing is king, and even "pop" performers are expected to exhibit a modicum of musical talent and ability;

• a musical artist is someone like Toscanini, Rubinstein, or Heifetz—someone capable of presenting music as art, not simply as mass-market entertainment;

• Verdi's Aïda is accompanied by the roaring of wild beasts (at the Cincinnati Zoo Summer Opera);

• in the north it is considered acceptable to refer to persons of African descent as "colored people," the term "negro" being discouraged as uncomfortably similar to another term considered acceptable in the south;

• it is common for people to heat their homes with coal;

• gas appliances have gas pilot lights, so they can be used even if the electricity goes out;

• you can manage most routine home repairs with a hammer, pliers, a flat-blade screwdriver, a few wrenches, and a roll of friction tape—plus some Band-Aids and a bottle of Mercurochrome;

• in addition to the standard household tools, the weekend auto mechanic can usually get by with feeler gauges and a brake-adjusting tool;

• toothpaste comes in metal tubes, radios have vacuum tubes, and car tires have inner tubes;

• it is normal for cars to use a little oil, which accounts for the dark trail down the middle of each traffic lane;

• if your car is domestic and compact, it's a Crosley;

• if your car has an automatic transmission, it's an Oldsmobile;

• if your car is a station wagon, it's a "woodie"—and the wood is real;

• if everything in your car works, including the clock, it's a goddamn miracle;

• there is unrest in the Middle East—even though the state of Israel doesn't exist;

• the United States flag has 48 stars;

• the Pope has been Italian for as long as any living person can remember;

• the only suspected danger of smoking is that it might stunt your growth;

• life expectancy in America has extended into the 60s;

• "cool" is the opposite of "warm;"

• kids think their generation invented four-letter words.

During my childhood (days of carefree youth)...

• women wear dresses and skirts (never slacks), even for doing housework;

• girls wear dresses and skirts to school, even in the middle of winter;

• only little kids wear shorts;

• only bums, geezers, and foreigners wear beards;

• bread and milk are delivered to your door;

• the only "frost-free" refrigerator is one that has been unplugged for a few hours;

• to see a movie, you go to a movie theater;

• most movies are in black-and-white, but on Saturday mornings there's a cartoon matinee;

• Ronald Reagan is a movie actor, usually starring in second-rate westerns or playing straight-man to a chimpanzee; in his spare time, he cheers the McCarthy movement to blacklist fellow actors and producers;

• to cool off in the summer, you go to a movie theater or to a public swimming pool;

• parents are afraid to let their kids go to public pools for fear of polio;

• the circus comes to town on a train, and is the most spectacular thing most kids have ever seen;

• the national sport, baseball, is played with wooden bats, on real grass, in open ballparks small enough that home runs can literally be hit "out of the park," by guys who don't demand higher salaries than doctors;

• the Giants are in New York, the Dodgers are in Brooklyn, and the Braves are in Milwaukee; the Mets, the Padres, and the Senators don't exist;

• five-and-ten-cent stores carry a variety of merchandise priced from 5 to 10 cents;

• although all bottles are glass, few are deliberately broken, because they're worth two cents apiece on return;

• though no longer minted, Liberty dimes and Indian-head pennies and nickels are still in circulation;

• mailboxes and mail trucks are dark green, and the U.S. Post Office has no competition;

• postage for a first-class letter is three cents, and a penny post card costs one cent;

• long-distance communication is conducted by means of letters and post cards, which travel by train unless you pay extra for an air-mail stamp;

• urgent long-distance communication is conducted via telegram;

• telephones come only in black, their cords don't coil, they have dials instead of buttons, and most are connected to party lines;

• local telephone dialing patterns are being changed from five to seven digits (two letters plus five numbers, e.g., KLezmer 5-1212;

• there are no area codes; all long-distance phone calls must be placed through an operator, and AT&T is the only public long-distance company;

• telephone company vehicles are dark green, and virtually impossible to see at night;

• police cars are black and white;

• airliners have propellers, roar instead of whine, fly low enough to be seen and heard by ground observers, and take over 12 hours to fly across the Atlantic;

• the terms "contrail" and "sonic boom" enter the common vocabulary;

• Cadillac eclipses Packard as the American automotive ultimate;

• Studebaker's designs are regarded by many auto buyers as too futuristic;

• the first Corvette has an in-line six-cylinder engine and a two-speed automatic transmission;

• there are no mass-produced "muscle cars;" if you want a "hot-rod," you must have enough brains and ambition to put it together yourself;

• there are no "Interstates," only U.S., state, and local routes, most of them two-lane roads;

• justifiably termed "knights of the road," most truck drivers are courteous and helpful—some compensation for getting stuck behind smoke-belching rigs crawling uphill on two-lane highways at 15 m.p.h.;

• a record "album" is a single 33-r.p.m. LP in a cardboard sleeve;

• "stereo" is a way to view pictures in 3-D;

• people don't file lawsuits for the effects of their own stupidity and negligence;

• the most divisive words in the Pledge of Allegiance have not yet divided "one nation indivisible;"

• in TV sitcoms, married couples sleep in separate beds;

• belching smokestacks are regarded as a sign of prosperity;

• "Iron Curtain" and "Cold War" are new terms;

• Vietnam is French Indo-China; Bangladesh is East Pakistan; Bosnia, Serbia, and Slovenia are Yugoslavia;

• kids are required to become familiar with Roman numerals in math class;

• other kids' dads take them camping and fishing on weekends, but mine takes me flying;

• "Made in USA" means quality; "Made in Japan" means junk;

• the only national charge (credit) cards are Diner's Club and American Express, and only wealthy people have them;

• a passbook savings account pays three percent interest;

• the national debt is less than one billion dollars.

While I am a teenager (the good old days)...

• Bermuda shorts are popular, and Bikini swimsuits are risqué;

• girls still wear dresses and skirts to school, even in the middle of winter;

• a drive-in is an outdoor movie theater, and guys are glad that girls still wear dresses and skirts;

• a vibrator is a component of your car's radio;

• "The King," not yet having achieved royal status, is ignobly dubbed "Elvis the Pelvis;"

• Ronald Reagan, no longer a credible actor in an age when realism is becoming popular, plays host for a television series western and does commercials.

• outside Nevada, divorce is considered an anomaly, not the norm;

• only farmers and laborers use trucks as personal vehicles;

• life-expectancy in America is a little shy of 70;

• a stereo LP costs a buck more than the mono version;

• American kids (at least those north of the Mason-Dixon Line) are required to learn the basic rules of English;

• some politicians still understand the value of art as both expression and nourishment of a healthy culture;

• being conservative means that you advocate caution and fiscal responsibility, not that you're a religious crackpot;

• some guy with a beard is stirring up people in Cuba;

• most people view police and priests as "the good guys;"

• "cool" is the opposite of "square," which is the opposite of "sharp;"

• kids still think their generation invented four-letter words.

When I become a young man (adjusting to grim reality)...

• the French problem of Indo-China has somehow become the American problem of Vietnam;

• Soviet missiles are shipped to Cuba, and President Kennedy declares that this is unacceptable;

• the Berlin wall is built, and President Kennedy declares that he is a jelly donut ("Ich bin ein Berliner"*);

• our President is assassinated, and then the assassin is assassinated;

• homosexuals decide that they are no longer "queer," but "gay;"

• colored people decide that they would rather be "black" (but NAACP does not change to NAABP);

• Martin Luther King, Jr. is assassinated, but not before sharing his immortal dream with humanity;

• being liberal means protecting all people's rights, while being conservative means asserting states' rights to deny women, minorities, and consumers their rights;

• the Corvair is the most innovative offering of the American auto industry since the Tucker, and the fact that Ralph Nader is afraid of it makes it all the more appealing;

• a computer is a room-filling contraption requiring a team of programmers and keypunch operators to make it do anything;

• the Pill is available, AIDS is unheard of, and "make love, not war" appeals to disillusioned youth, since one of those two options is significantly less likely to prove fatal;

• almost everyone between ages 13 and 30 (except me) has tried marijuana.

*A "Berliner" (Berliner Pfannkuchen) is a pastry.  To express that one is a citizen of Berlin, one says, "Ich bin Berliner," without the indefinite article "ein."

Upon entering the service of Uncle Sam (grim gets grimmer)...

• there is a military draft, but I volunteer because I dislike uncertainty;

• I discover that there are worse things than uncertainty;

• I learn new meanings for words like "casual," "mess," and "police;"

• soldiers know that drill sergeants invented all four-letter words;

• your military service number is not your Social Security number;

• it occurs to me that walking in a straight line and in lockstep with a bunch of other guys, while a grouch with a speech impediment walks alongside counting up to four over and over, is somehow unnatural;

• I am offered three choices of duty assignments, and I get my fourth choice;

• Berlin is divided—geographically, militarily, politically, economically, culturally;

• Berlin is well guarded by the Soviet army, thus minimizing chances of attack by Viet Cong;

• I discover that staying awake all night is preferable to being awakened at 4:00 a.m.;

• a very religious military chaplain shows me the very ugly side of religion.

The day I am married...

• it is Saturday the 10th, and my best friend has flown 700 miles to be my best man;

• my bride is the most beautiful woman in the world.

During those carefree years B.C. (before children)...

• humans travel to a place that isn't on their home planet;

• the United States of America loses a war;

• the U.S. dollar, newly floated on the world market, immediately drops to a fraction of its previous value;

• a wage-price freeze further disrupts a national economy already threatened by double-digit inflation;

• the President is implicated in illegal activities and resigns in disgrace;

• in blind pursuit of a "bigger is better" marketing strategy of chromed-over 1940s technology, American industry loses its edge in value and quality to its German and Japanese counterparts.

The day I become a father...

• it is Friday the 13th, and a most lucky and beautiful day despite the rain;

• my wife and my daughter are the most beautiful women in the world.

As I am raising a family...

• the OPEC oil embargo pushes the price of gasoline in the U.S. from about 35 cents to over a dollar per gallon; gas-guzzling cars become obsolete overnight, and American car makers are forced to re-learn—from the Japanese—how to design and build automobiles;

• Continuing a merry tradition of chief executives variously characterized as "flakes," "kooks," and "nuts," California elects Ronald Reagan governor.

• American Indians decide that "native American" is a more distinctive term—despite that simply being born on the American landmass technically makes anyone a native American, even if he's born to parents who immigrated from somewhere else;

• some black (formerly "colored") people decide that "Afro-American" sounds better (but NAACP does not change to NAAAA);

• Ronald Reagan loses the Republican presidential nomination to a guy who can't say "government," falls down a lot, and treats the golf ball as an offensive weapon.

• The guy who can't say "government" loses the presidential election to a guy who can say it but can't seem to run it;

• the standard retort to a stupid question, "Is the Pope Polish?" acquires an ironic twist;

• "cool" is the opposite of "dull;"

• kids still think their generation invented four-letter words.

The day I qualify for Mensa...

• I'm alarmed to discover that the world is run mostly by people who are even dumber than I.

While I am in my prime...

• George Bush (Sr.) aptly characterizes Ronald Reagan's trickle-down scheme as "voodoo economics;"

• to shore up its eroding popular base, the formerly staid Republican Party sells out to the crackpot right, shifting the entire spectrum of American politics into a fantasy realm;

• the "pro-business" Republican administration goes on a deregulation tear, destabilizing airline and banking industries, and endangering the investments and savings of millions;

• inflation eases, but the national debt skyrockets, and purchasing power erodes despite the flattening of retail prices;

• unemployment rises, and so, consequently, do scapegoating and racism;

• the United States becomes the only "civilized" nation to slash public funding for the arts, laying the groundwork for a generation almost completely ignorant of world culture and even its own creative roots;

• a decision has been made that American kids need no longer be taught the basic rules of English, so they arrive at college with no idea of how to use an apostrophe or to formulate a coherent sentence;

• "know what I'm saying" has become an obligatory end-of-sentence expression—for those who don't know what they're saying;

• religious mythology is called "science," and school boards seriously deliberate whether to teach it as such; meanwhile, America's global scientific edge is dulling, and economic consequences cannot help but follow;

• I am the first person on my block to buy a CD player, the last to acquire a video recorder;

• after having smoked for nearly 25 years, I quit (before it becomes stylish to do so), without resorting to gum, patches, or prayer;

• voodoo economics doesn't work any better when the guy who first called it that tries his own hand at it;

• attempting to modernize its stagnant political system and economy, the Soviet Union instead becomes unstable and collapses, the Warsaw Pact dissolves, the Berlin wall comes down, Europe is reunited—and America's Bush (Sr.) administration claims credit;

• Saddam Hussein instigates a war, then loses it, but acts as if he had won it, and cannot be persuaded otherwise.

The day I turn 50...

• life expectancy in America is nearly 80 years;

• my wife subtracts a few days from my own life expectancy by baking me a German-chocolate cake;

• absolutely nothing else happens.

In the waning months of the 20th century...

• even though the 21st century CE will not begin until 1 January 2001, most Americans are actually convinced that it began a year earlier;*

• trucks are advertised, not for hauling big loads, but for inflating tiny egos**—consequently, despite their inferiority in handling, comfort, economy, and safety, trucks outsell cars even among people who have no intention of ever hauling a load larger than a few books or grocery bags;

• some Afro-Americans (formerly "black" and "colored" people) are debating whether they would rather be "people of color" (but NAACP gives no hint of changing to NAAPC);

• "cool" is the opposite of "sophisticated;"

*Do they suppose that the 1st century began with year 0?
**Popular truck ad slogans: "You can impress people with [Chevrolet Tahoe]." "Built Ford-tough." "That's Mister new [Dodge] Ram, to you!"

The day I retire and the day I return to college...

• are like the days I became a husband and a father—life's most joyful, hopeful, and fearful of moments, combined into one.

The day my daughter is married...

• my little girl looks like a tiny doll, and is the most beautiful woman in the world.

Three days later...

• thousands of Americans die in terrorist attacks by religious extremists;

• almost every group fails to get the message, proclaiming that God is on its side.

In the early years of the 21st century...

• though I have long questioned the wisdom of outlawing marijuana, I still haven't tried it;

• the President of the United States can't say "United States;"

• President Bush (Jr.) justifies U.S. invasion of Iraq with the assertion that the world is better off without Saddam Hussein—ignoring that the same rationale would "justify" the invasion of any sovereign nation (including the U.S.) whose leaders are deemed potentially dangerous by others;

• kids still think their generation invented four-letter words.

Not only can I remember all this worthless stuff, I can still remember my military service number (even though it wasn't my Social Security number).  If only I could remember where I put my glasses...

It would be easy to suppose that present-day America has turned out a generation of intellectual wimps.  But while there is some truth to this, it was no less true of earlier generations.  Yes, there were Franklin, Lincoln, Barton, Twain, Burbank, Bell, Carnegie, Edison—individuals of vision, their various creative efforts simultaneously issuing from and enhancing a great cultural background.  But these were exceptional individuals, standing conspicuously above the crowd.  As to the average American, he has typically aspired only to mediocrity, rising above it only in times of desperation.  He wants to learn just enough to earn a paycheck.  Ignorant of history, culture, science, and even the basic rules of his own language, he is little more than a savage.  He can drive a car (clumsily) and use a computer (barely), but has little inkling of how either works.  He can parrot statistics for every ball player and movie star for the past 25 years, but hasn't a clue to the significance of E=mc².  He knows who Jerry Springer and Hulk Hogan are, but has never heard of Goethe or Faulkner, Mozart or Copland, Botticelli or Hopper, Leibniz or Hawking.  This is not a new phenomenon; in America, cultural ignorance has always been considered chic among the masses.

But whereas former generations were inclined to leave politics up to a relatively educated elite, who were traditionally inclined to preserve and promote ideas of cultural value, in our generation the savages have taken over.  Cultural ignorance has invaded the highest offices of the land, and profit, flag-waving, and conformity are viewed as the only values worth pursuing.  We are rapidly losing the multi-colored context and insight of our history, our philosophies, our religions, and our art, leaving our society with a black-and-white, mass-produced, one-size-fits-all severity that drains it of humanity and meaning.  The garden of creative expression of diverse ideas has been buried under a dung-heap of commercial ostentation.  Programs that enriched the lives of previous generations are now stripped of funds and gutted, leaving American children with the option of having either to go abroad to obtain first-hand experience of their cultural heritage or to go entirely without—perhaps, if we dare to speculate, to become the progenitors of H. G. Welles's odiously subhuman morlocks.*

When I began this page, I hadn't meant to end on such a dreary note.  I suppose it is natural for each generation to view the succeeding one with a degree of pessimism, perhaps even despair.  Yet in each generation, a few extraordinary individuals have shown that pessimism to be unfounded, that there are grains of hope where we least expected to find them.  Perhaps we will get lucky yet again.  Perhaps you, or one of your children, will be one of those extraordinary individuals.  Here's to you!

=SAJ=

*The Time Machine, H. G. Welles