Basking in the glow of nostalgia - Brief Article - Column

Nostalgia means many things to many people, but basically it involves a longing look at the best of the past. It can involve a nearly pathological wallowing in that past, almost to the point of vacating the present, or simply a temporary pleasant reminiscence of things gone by. The latter offers a respite from the pressures of our rush-rush and future-oriented world. This retrospection also provides a sense of much-needed perspective on where we are today. Author Studs Terkel complains that the overemphasis on the now has created a state of "national Alzheimer's disease."

Perhaps we don't like to admit nostalgia as a part of life, for it often is ridiculed as a sign of old age. Nevertheless, it is there and affords pleasure for all, especially the incapacitated. For instance, the paintings Norman Rockwell did for The Saturday Evening Post have a universal appeal that transcends their time.

Cable television's Nostalgia Channel features films from "the good old days." Virtually anyone who has seen the original "Robin Hood" starring Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland will attest that the newer TV and movie versions can't hold a candle to it. They are filled with political correctness (of which most Americans have had their fill) and have too many axes to grind. Their violence destroys the simple theme of the enduring folktale of good triumphing over evil.

There are radio stations that replay old-time programs, many of which surpass those offered today. The Texaco Star "Bob Hope Show" with its theme song, "Thanks for the Memories," and the "Fred Allen" program enthralled a nation. The ongoing characters in the latter's "Allen's Alley" man-in-the-street interviews were true to life -- Senator Claghorn and Mrs. Nussbaum, to name just two. Who didn't have the proverbial junk closet of "Fibber McGee and Molly" fame, from which things tumbled out each time it was opened? In less sensitive times, blacks and whites both enjoyed Sapphire and Kingfish on "Amos 'n' Andy."

"The Lone Ranger" was listened to by millions, teaching good race relations and that virtue was its own reward. Perhaps it is just as well that few of us were so sophisticated that we could identify the William Tell Overture of Rossini as the Lone Ranger theme, with "Hi ho Silver, away" echoing in the background. On Saturday afternoons, for pennies at the movies, we were shaped by the B-westerns, the morality plays of the Depression. We knew that, no matter what, the guy in the white hat would come out on top.

What old timer's eyes don't tight up when one recalls rumble seats, drive-in movies, and American-made Indian and Harley-Davidson motorcycles? And how about old classic cars -- the finned Cadillac, the Buick Roadmaster with portholes. Chrysler wood-paneled station wagons, and the turbo-charged Cord?

If one had a penny in those days, he or she could put it in a gum machine and watch the mechanical man make a full turn and deliver a candy-coated piece of gum. If a kid was broke, there always was the ice wagon from which one could pilfer a chunk of ice that broke off from the block. One didn't mind spitting out the splinters of wood that were soaked up into it. Somehow, we all made it through such an unsanitary age.

There was the time when kids organized their own sandlot baseball, basketball, and football games. They never heard of stiflingly over-organized Little League games, "played" by kids for adults. Sweaty, we would go home and drink the lemonade Grandma had made in anticipation of our thirst.

Dad's pipe or cigar and Mother in her apron told us all was well with our world. We prayed together at bedside that it would continue so. as we knew that "the family that prays together, stays together!"

Everyone accumulated blue "Depression glass" Shirley Temple individual pitchers by eating Wheaties, recommended by Jack Armstrong, the All-American Boy. Similarly, we drank our Ovaltine, if only to get the secret code ring of Little Orphan Annie.

It was a time of awkward, but bustling, adolescence, when we wore the mantle of responsibility lightly, if we wore it at all. Yet, we all pitched in to help the family by baby-sitting, tending newspaper routes, working in the fields in summer in rural areas, or going to the store for neighbors. We enjoyed family solidarity without knowing the meaning of the word. At dusk, instead if wandering around, we sat on a swing on the front porch to enjoy and exchange small talk with the passing parade. It was one reason neighborhoods were safe in those days.

We rode the wicker seat trolleys with their familiar clang-clang rung at intersections. We always joked when they lost their connection with the wires above and the conductor had to get out and reposition the wires. At the end of the line, he would push back each seat to face the other way and did it making a sound almost like a drum roll.

Big bands dominated the late 1930s and 1940s, and their music was memorable -- and danceable! Glenn Miller, Harry James, Sammy Kaye, Guy Lombardo, the Dorsey Brothers, and Russ Morgan are just a few that come to mind. I haven't heard a muted trumpet since their time, with today's music dominated by noisy rock.

Easter parades were a yearly highlight. Kids decorated their bikes and wagons with multi-colored crepe paper, streamers flying. Many bikes had baskets occupied by be-ribboned kittens, sleeping puppies, or sniffing guinea pigs.

Church picnics held on some farmer's land were complete with gunnysack three-legged races, pie-eating contests, dunking for apples in a barrel, and bingo games.

Truly, it was a fun time -- a time of national innocence. It was a time to remember and to reminisce about. There were problems and tragedies, but who wants to think about them'? Instead, let's give three cheers for nostalgia!

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