Tuesday, April 13, 2010
ROOT BEER OR RED BULL...
Everything is happening a little too fast these days. I admire my late Uncle D, whose big night out was sitting on the stoop sipping a soda and listening to his transistor radio. Like Uncle D, I will go kicking and screaming into the age of The Jetson’s. I like my cars and feet on the ground, and prefer root-beer to Red Bull.
Yes, progress is good, but can’t we just linger a bit longer with the way things are, were, and have been. I would have enjoyed sending or receiving one more telegram. I miss buying records, and record stores. Every time a book store, church, or local movie theatre closes, I see those flying cars somewhere on the horizon.
Sure, I have become a fan of the sugar-free, decaf, non-fat latte. I use a cell phone, and I have myself convinced I need my computer, but, I have also been perfectly happy, even blissful, without cable TV, a microwave, or an iPhone.
A recent newspaper article hit a nostalgic nerve, when the writer commented about not having to ask for directions any longer thanks to GPS. I don’t have one of those either, and I know they can certainly be very helpful, but, the adventure of traveling on the road is lost. Lewis and Clark, and Charles Kuralt didn’t have GPS, and they got to where they were going, and came back with lots of stories to tell.
I got through the last ten years just fine without any gizmo’s and gadgets, or high-tech anything. The only appliance I turned on today was my electric toothbrush, and that was only because my dentist warned me my teeth would fall out if I didn’t. And speaking of dentists, mine tells me next time I come in, they will have reverse Novocain. By the time I leave the office, I won’t have that puffy, numb feeling anymore. I kind of liked complaining about that.
I don’t think it’s asking too much to want to hold on a bit longer to the things we have grown accustomed to. I already miss not being able to eat for a few hours after my dental appointment. I will no longer have a good excuse to avoid the bakery on my way home from appointments. Oh wait, Bessie’s Pastry Shop has been replaced with a wireless superstore. I will go straight home then, turn on my TV manually, and watch The Jetson’s one more time, before accepting that everyone around me is already living it. Like Uncle D, I still hang my clothes on the line, and get excited over a root-beer float.