(Originally
published 5/17/15)
Trust me,
I am living in the present. Even though I post a lot of pictures from the past
and sometimes wax nostalgic for the “simpler times” of my youth—when a New York Mets’
game and the warm and reassuring voices of Lindsey Nelson, Bob Murphy, and
Ralph Kiner were otherworldly—I am fully present in the present. Okay, so I
think the present isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. In fact, it stinks in
too many ways to count. Suffice it to say, people walking around the streets
with their heads buried in their iPhones and obliviously yakking on their cells
is disconcerting, rude, and—really—dangerous. But this familiar contemporary
grievance has become a cliché. Yada…yada…yada.
So, I
thought I’d look on the bright side of the here and now for a change and
underscore some of the things I think are better today than in those simpler
times of my youth. For starters, recycling is a major step forward. Once
upon a time, everything from ketchup to prescription cough medicine to peanut
butter came in glass bottles, which were just heaved into the regular trash
when empty. How many Hawaiian Punch and Hi-C heavy aluminum cans did we toss
into the garbage that weren’t recycled? Plenty. Of course, what and how much
actually gets recycled is a question for another day.
While I
don’t like the trend of human beings being replaced by technology, I am nonetheless happy there are ATM machines. They are convenient and I use them
for virtually every banking transaction. Withdrawals the old-fashioned way—with a
flesh-and-blood bank teller at the other end—always make me feel guilty, as if
I’m doing something wrong.
I’ve never seen you before.
What exactly
are you trying to pull with this withdrawal?
I’m
pleased, too, that my high school alma mater—Cardinal Spellman in the Bronx—has
cast asunder “lunchtime sponge duty,” where the unlucky and the unwashed were
compelled to clean dirty lunch tables with filthy, bacteria-laden sponges and
pick refuse off the floor as well. No rubber gloves were issued, and no extra
time was allotted to get to our next classes. We didn't even have time to wash
our hands. If we were late for a class, an unsympathetic teacher could set the
“detention” wheels in motion—and a few of them did—even if we had the very
legitimate “sponge-duty” excuse. There are no students who are “sponge-worthy”
in the present and this is a step forward.
As far as
diagnosing and treating diseases, our healthcare is considerably better than its equivalent back in the day. I’m old enough to remember a neighborhood family doctor making
house calls. And when my paternal grandfather was diagnosed with leukemia, nuns
in the Catholic hospital where he lay dying remained at his side 24/7. Still, the
disease he succumbed to came attached to a prompt death sentence. While the
Marcus
Welby, M.D.-doctoring and nursing approaches are sorely missed, one still must
appreciate the advances in modern medicine. If living and longevity count for
something, the present rules.
If the
Hudson River is representative of waterways everywhere, I suppose Iron Eyes
Cody would have less to tear up about nowadays. My father swam in the river in
the 1940s and recalled pushing an unremitting stream of excrement away. As a
boy, I recollect the river smelling more of garbage than salty sea.
Currently, the Hudson’s odor in lower Manhattan is of a pleasing brine and not
raw sewerage. That said, Iron Eyes, I’m certain, would still need a Kleenex or two.
Then
there’s the Internet. I couldn’t have authored the books that I have without
it—and certainly not in the brief time afforded me. I wouldn’t be writing this
blog, either. At some point in the 1970s, I penned a lengthy missive to
TV
Guide asking the folks there an extensive roster of questions. Most of them
were of the “Whatever Became Of?” variety. For some reason, I was fixated on
death and who in the celebrity world had passed away. I remember asking,
“Whatever became of character actor Larry Keating, who played neighbor Roger
Addison on
Mister Ed and, before that, Harry Morton on
The George
Burns and Gracie Allen Show?” and “why was he replaced on the former by
Leon Ames?” I was a curious kid. Now, all I’d have to do is Google “Larry
Keating” to acquire the answers to such burning questions. Someone at
TV Guide—it
should be noted—personally answered my letter and supplied me with potential resources—books
of all things—that could help me find answers to my many questions. Larry
Keating, by the way, was diagnosed with leukemia and—like my grandfather—died
from it in short order.
YouTube
and Netflix have been gifts in the present. I don’t think I’d ever have watched
shows like
Rawhide,
Wagon Train, and
Stagecoach West
without them, not to mention countless other television classics and historic
moments, which might otherwise be buried in the archives at the Museum of
Television & Radio. While on the subject, I recently watched several episodes of
Adam-12,
a
Dragnet-esque show from the past created by Jack Webb, on Netflix. It didn’t hold up! I found it interesting that they played for laughs a domestic abuse
call, like it was a complete waste of the police’s time. With smirks on their
faces and exasperated meaningful glances, Officers Malloy and Reed asked only
that a wife-beater—fittingly festooned in a wife-beater—be a little bit nicer. One
more plus for the present. Drunks, too—even behind the wheels of cars—weren’t
taken all that seriously on television and on the streets. Now they are.
Finally, I
must say the present has at long last put a lid on smokers—as best that it
could—who have literally taken our breaths away and stunk up our clothes, hair,
and skin for far, far too long. Courtesy of riding in a packed-like-sardines bus,
I began every single day of high school reeking of cigarette smoke. It cannot be denied: The
present has its place.
