Boomer Journey…

Thought I would take this Boomer Journey to something a little more personal – friendships lost… When you reach our ages, you’ve had your share of personal losses. Friends grow ill and pass. They move away. We drift apart.

Sometimes, it’s as fundamental as a difference of opinion – the deal breaker.

In more recent times, in a politically inflammatory environment, I’ve lost friends over political differences – the inability to respect one another’s differences and the being able to agree to disagree. I’ve learned – the hard way – there are some who cannot live with a difference of opinion to where they go away overnight. Their political beliefs eclipsed a lifetime friendship and enduring brotherhood.

A friendship gone…

I enjoy a wealth of great friends all over the country – just not many locally. We are friends long distance. We stay in touch via the email, texting, and the phone. Due to the very nature of living in Los Angeles, we find the place really is a great big freeway. If you have a buddy or a date two hours away, you are “geographically undesirable…” because no one wants to sit in traffic for two hours just to see you.

I live on Southern California’s high desert near Edwards Air Force Base, three miles from Palmdale Air Force Plant 42 – which is a defense factory and home to Boeing, Northrup, and Lockheed some 62 miles, or two hours, north of Los Angeles.

Los Angeles is a most unusual metropolis. The city limits within the County of Los Angeles run vast – from the huge L.A. basin into the San Fernando Valley on the other side of the mountains. It extends East to San Bernardino and on out into the low desert and Palm Springs. You can drive 100 miles and still be in Los Angeles.

I have ADHD so bear with me. I’ve found friendship can be enduring where friends become extended family, and there are acquaintances who come and go. There are people we work with for decades who fade away upon retirement or a job change. There are also neighbors who come and go – the traditional block parties, sharing growing families, and the enduring friendships like the Ricardos and the Mertz’s.

Wouldn’t it be nice if life was like the Ricardos and the Mertz’s? Though fictional, this tenant/landlord relationship that became extended family felt so good despite their occasional dustups. They always found a way to make peace and go on.

In truth, this rarely happens in real life, especially these days. Once close-knit communities have been replaced by suburbia, jet travel, the interstate highway system, and careers that have taken people far from where they grew up. We stay in touch via email and text messaging. We jet out to see childhood friends and family, and before you know it, it is time to fly home. I am a continent away from where I grew up, with a career that took me to Los Angeles a lifetime ago.

I remain in touch with childhood friends and those I served with in the military – enduring friendships that have lasted a lifetime. We’re all a little grayer with turkey necks and character lines. However, our connections have never wavered. There are those we go for years and never hear from – and reconnect and pick up where we left off – true friendships.

When I think of friendships lost, I think of the greatest friendship I’ve ever had – my friend and brother in arms. I will call him Karl. We were the very best of friends and for 45 years, that is until the current toxic political environment tore us apart.

I can tell you I am a centrist – liberal about some things and largely conservative about others. I believe in toting your own weight and finding your own way. I also believe in helping others – those who cannot fend for themselves. I also understand right from wrong. That said, I ask – when did right become wrong and wrong become right? At what point did we lose our way?

I’d like to hear your stories…

It was a steamy late summer afternoon in the mid-Atlantic when the family crowded around my grandmother’s 1950s vintage RCA black and white console television for a surreal look at the Moon like we’d never seen it before. A youthful Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin of Apollo 11 (Apollo’s fifth mission) descended to the surface and – in a dusty white powdery blast – landed and shut down while Command Module pilot Mike Collins and some 600 million of us looked on.

The Eagle had landed.

We held our breath and sighed with relief with Armstrong’s words. Like most Americans, our next thoughts were “what’s next?” Armstrong would take bold yet cautious steps down the ladder, sinking his feet into the powdered sugar texture lunar soil, describing what it was like to do that as the first human being to ever take steps on another celestial body outside of Earth’s gravitational pull. Aldrin would take those next steps, knowing he and Armstrong were etching their names into both the lunar firmament and Earth history books.

These courageous gentlemen were on their second and final journey into space, knowing they would never travel outside of Earth again. We didn’t completely understand it then – but our technology was primitive at the time, yet advanced for its day. It took raw guts and real tenacity to strap your backside to the top of the most power rocket booster of its time – the Saturn V – and get ride in mankind’s greatest hot rod.

The Saturn V consisted of several parts – the command module on top (the cockpit), the service module, which provided propulsion , electricity, oxygen for breathing, and water for the command module; the lunar module with two stages – the descent stage with an engine for landing on the surface – and a smaller engine for the return to the command module above and a return to lunar orbit. This does not include the powerhouse stages that got them into space.

The Apollo 11 astronauts splashed down in the Pacific for a “welcome home” like they’d never experienced in their entire lives. We were suddenly in a world where man had walked on the Moon. Other Apollo missions would follow before budget cuts ended the Apollo program in the 1970s. It would be more than 50 years before we ventured into lunar orbit again.

Apollo 11 was one for the history books for all of mankind. It would be more than 50 years before we ever went back.

Artemis I and II are the beginnings of our return to the Moon, with Artemis II being another NASA launch for the history books, putting human beings the farthest from Earth that mankind has ever been. This has been but a reminder of how tiny we are in a vast cosmos, watching Earthrise from a different perspective this time around from the dark side of the Moon.

Artemis II was something of a “test drive” into lunar orbit to see how NASA’s latest and greatest achievement performed. The crew did some sightseeing and then came home from the most remarkable journey they will ever witness in a lifetime of service to country. Unless you’ve ever strapped millions of pounds of both dead weight and brute thrust to your backside, you will never understand what it was like for four remarkable space patriots.

At its origins in 2017, Artemis II was known as Exploration Mission-2 (EM-2), with the objective of validating the Orion spacecraft’s systems and function. Think of this as the foundation for longer lunar missions and exploration, with the ultimate destination being Mars.

Four crewmembers, Victor Glover, Christina Koch, Jeremy Hansen, and Reid Wiseman, embarked on this mission with a great sense of awe and adventure.

In their close lunar flyby, they achieved the greatest human distance ever from planet Earth – some 252,756 miles from the Earth’s surface – which surpassed Apollo 13’s 248,655 miles. There will be more Artemis missions to the Moon, with humans touching the lunar soil in due course. We just have to be patient.

This is a reminder that although we have serious problems to solve in America at this time, remember we remain the Champions, cognoscente of who we really are as courageous patriots who will collectively rise again.

Who could forget the zany “Adventures of Ozzie & Hariett,” which aired on ABC from October 1952 until April of 1966? I suppose it could be easy to forget – the once popular television sitcom that couldn’t have tried harder to wear out its welcome.

Ozzie & Hariett lasted 14 television seasons.

An inside look at the Nelson family could be considered television’s first “reality” show, which wasn’t reality at all – but instead fiction – starring the “entire Nelson family” – Ozzie, Hariett, David, and Ricky. It began as a long-running radio program, segueing into television in 1952.

The radio Nelsons launched in March of 1944 when legendary comic Red Skelton was drafted into World War II. “The Adventures of Ozzie & Hariett” debuted on CBS radio in Skelton’s absence, eventually moving to NBC in 1948, then back to CBS in 1949. In the end, Nelsons had produced 402 radio broadcasts.

As radio evolved into television, the Nelsons followed suit by moving their program to ABC TV in 1952. I suppose the Nelsons were right for the time, with plenty of witty banty amongst the cast in family situations, which included Don DeFore as neighbor “Thorny,” who moved on to “Hazel” in 1961 to star as prominent lawyer and boss, George Baxter. David and Ricky Nelson joined the radio cast in 1949 at ages 12 and 8. It would become their constant companion for the next 17 years.

Because Ozzie was both an entertainer and a successful businessman, he founded Stage Five Productions, convincing ABC to sign a 10-year contract that kept the Nelsons flush with cash whether the series continued or was cancelled.

They couldn’t lose.

Though “America’s Favorite Family…” attempted to look like real life, it was anything but. The Nelson’s home, which was in the opening theme, was located in the hills above Hollywood and Los Angeles. Most of the filming was performed at the General Service Studios Stage 3 sound stage where Ozzie recreated the interior of their home while most exterior shots were in Los Angeles instead of a studio backlot, which offered realism to the show’s fictional community of Warfield.

Nelson family storylines were typical of the era, with domestic issues most experienced at the time. It is true most of these scripts were taken from the Nelson family’s personal lives. The cast of characters increased when Rick married Kristin Harmon and David June Blair, who appeared in the show as themselves.

Like Ward Cleaver of “Leave It To Beaver,” no one ever really knew what Ozzie Nelson did for a living though his role as a bandleader was mentioned periodically. Although Ozzie pursued an education in law as a young man in New Jersey, he wound up with a career as a bandleader, actor, and producer. Ozzie wrote most of the shows for the series’ entire run, which might explain how dry they were.

The show needed sensational writers.

Rick Nelson launched his music career on the show, appearing at each show’s ending before the closing theme. Rick’s career continued into the 1980s until an unfortunate and tragic plane crash ended his life in 1985. David continued in the entertainment industry as a director. He passed in 2011. Hariett did occasional acting, retiring to the Nelson family’s Laguna Beach home where she lived until her death in 1994. Ozzie was plagued with malignant tumors that ultimately led to his death in 1975.

Although “Ozzie & Hariett” appeared an intimate look into a wholesome American family, it was never what it appeared on screen. Although Ozzie appeared the easy-going husband, father, and neighbor, he was quite the high-achieving taskmaster. It has been written he robbed David and Rick of their childhoods, stressing the importance of their obligation to the show. This may explain the somber mood in some of the shows and the blank facial expressions. These young men were not actors, nor do I believe they ever even wanted to act. The stress and pressure of a grueling weekly shooting schedule had to have taken its toll, which makes you wonder whatever happened to their dreams.

It can safely be said “Ozzie & Hariett” wore out its welcome long before it finally wrapped up in 1966. The theme and content never left the 1950s. What’s more, it was never high in the ratings. The best it ever did was 29th in the Nielson ratings. It made the transition to color in its final season. Too little too late.

If you were born between 1946 and 1964 you certainly remember the post-war housing boom. It was big and there hasn’t been anything like it since. Because I was a very curious young man – age 7 – building and construction fascinated me endlessly. I’d get on my bike and ride to construction sites and watch the action and observe the bones turn into a finished structure.

When I was growing up in suburban Washington, D.C., I remember when the flatlands and empty firmament became housing developments, apartment complexes, high-rises, and shopping centers overnight. In Arlington across the Potomac from Washington, most of the immediate area was already developed, with shopping, apartment complexes, and neighborhoods already established that came of wartime growth and the aggressive hiring of government workers.

Suburban Maryland was a different story – and most of you will be able to relate to this because this story could be told again and again in nearly every metropolitan area in the country. Developers were hungry for cold hard cash, and post-war suburban growth was the way to get it.

Suburbia emerged in every metropolis across America.

Arlington, Virginia’s “Arlington Forest,” which came of federal housing programs and the aggressive growth of the federal government in the 1930s and ’40s, remains a desirable place to live today, with home prices in the $1 million range.

Wartime and Post-War suburban growth can be credited to federal programs for the greater good that contributed to growth. Federal Housing Administration (FHA) and Veterans Administration (VA) programs that enabled Americans to buy homes and for developers to build same along with apartment complexes populated the landscape like never before. This wasn’t just about opportunities for families – but also businesses that got the unemployed back to work. There were other incentives – such as deducting mortgage interest, low-income HUD programs, cash for water programs, and the Clean Air Act to get people out of the cities.

So many other issues contributed to the growth of suburbia, including freeways and the Interstate Highway system that got people out of the cities and into the ‘burbs where they could prosper. Unfortunately, cities were left to rot and the focus became suburbia. There would be a price to be paid for urban neglect. We’re still living with this problem today, with few even paying attention.

The good news was – developers who understood the importance of community made sure homebuyers got some semblance of community – with sites committed to schools, places of worship, parks, recreation, fire rescue protection, shopping, and service stations. The result was self-contained communities where everything was within walking distance or a short drive. Residents never had to want for anything.

Sheffield Court was originally constructed as “Lee Gardens South” along Arlington Boulevard (Route 50) in Arlington to house federal workers, within an easy commute by bus to Washington. It is a stylish place to live today.

It has been said federal mortgage insurance programs arrived in 1934 during the Great Depression though any real meaning didn’t come until the 1940s and ’50s. No one had any money to rent let alone buy. Prior to the 1930s, roughly half of the U.S. population owned a home. This number grew to 60 percent – more than half – as the war unfolded and ended in 1945.

As a result, suburbia grew like never before. When I think of my suburban Washington memories from 60 years ago, the architectural pattern was clear, based on subtle nuances. There’s were clear architectural difference between pre-war and post-war homes. I believe the economics were affected by the cost and type of building materials. There was also a trend in the 1940s and early ’50s that brought us steel casement swing-out windows, the drift away from radiators (hot water heat) to central heating and air conditioning, heavily sculptured bathroom fixtures to mid-century modern, steel kitchen cabinets and the move to wooden cabinets to warm things up, one-car garages instead of carports and driveways, and the incorporation of low-cost, substandard building materials.

Builders and developers went to “reverse” assembly line approaches to where all of the parts necessary to build a home were dropped on lots waiting for labor, much of which was not qualified to carry out what they were hired to do. Some developers got the hang of it – while some did not – filing bankruptcy, leaving homebuyers empty-handed without their deposits.

Levitt & Sons turned rural Prince George’s County into suburbia overnight with its “Belair At Bowie” community, with more than 9,000 homes built in historic PG County in nine years. Levitt’s reach was far and wide – well into Southern Maryland and north to Laurel and Howard County. Other prominent developers shared in the prosperity around the District line.

It can be safely said federal housing programs brought us suburbia and home ownership, but not without the price paid by urban areas that have suffered as a result. Ironically, there are suburban areas close into cities that have deteriorated with age and neglect. This was something we never could have envisioned a half century ago playing kickball in the streets until the streetlights came on.

As always – I invite your feedback and experiences.

It is impossible to imagine our childhoods without William “Bill” Hanna and Joseph “Joe” Barbara – otherwise known as Hanna-Barbera Productions – known best for “The Flintstones,” “The Jetsons,” “Scooby-Doo,” and a host of other animated cartoons we spent hours watching growing up.

The Flintstones and The Jetsons were launched as primetime “adult” cartoons on the ABC Television Network at the cusp of the 1960s. I vividly remember when they debuted because my folks watched them. My father laughed at the antics. I was immediately hooked. I laughed hysterically when Fred let Dino out and Dino came back through the window and threw Fred out. Fred was yelling and banging on the door, waking the entire City of Bedrock, with lights coming

These incredible animators who created an empire spanning the decades began working together at MGM’s animation studio in 1938, thus beginning a long association that would endure. They enjoyed a terrific association that spawned dozens of cartoon franchises. Their first effort as a team was “The Adventures of Tom & Jerry” focusing on the antics of a cat and mouse on a par with the Coyote and Roadrunner in a “spy-vs-spy” theme. The seemingly weaker of the two always came out on top. The coyote never did catch the roadrunner, and Tom never did catch Jerry. I can remember rooting for the bad guys.

Each half of the Hanna-Barbera (HB) creative team had their duties. Barbera composed the stories and did pre-production for those original 114 “Tom & Jerry” cartoons the two did together at MGM. Hanna was known for conducting the animation. It is remarkable seven of these cartoons won Oscars for “Best Short Subject” films from 1943-53.

The Flintstones became an integral part of the Americana, with an abundance of cliches in everyday conversation coming from the incredible writing of the Hanna-Barbera team. The Flintstones focused on these pre-historic suburbanites – Fred and Wilma Flintstone, their pet dinosaur, Dino, and sabretooth tiger pet Baby Puss, and ultimately a baby girl named Pebbles. Like the Kramdens and the Nortons of The Honeymooners fame, the Flintstones had best friends Barney and Betty Rubble next door. Ed Norton drove Ralph crazy like Barney did Fred. And, like Ralph and Ed of The Honeymooners, working stiffs Fred and Barney were always searching for fast-quick ways to make a buck yet never achieved success.

Hanna and Barbera had their work cut out for them – with the challenging task of coming up with 30-minute cartoon segments that would keep viewers coming back for more. The Flintstones spawned The Jetsons at the opposite end of the spectrum with a high rise building in space (yet no one knew what it sat on…). Some of what we saw in The Jetsons wound what we depend upon now – video chats, portable phones, robotics, moving sidewalks, jet propulsion motor vehicles, and more.

The challenge for Hanna-Barbera was a critical balance of storytelling and animation. These creative geniuses modernized animated cartoons. Instead of the shorts they did at MGM, they turned these shorts into 30-minute episodes for television. They weren’t just an animation studio; they were a mass production facility that could churn out cartoons at a remarkable clip.

Joe Barbera (left) and William “Bill” Hanna – the heart and soul of successful animation for decades in the 20th century.

The team had to come up with an efficient system of cartoon generation. I have read that instead of 14,000 drawings for a seven-minute short, they reduced the number to 2,000 drawings, keeping character movements to a minimum. It was known as “segmented character design” where the characters were separated into body parts where only the mouth or an arm or leg moved while the rest of the body remained stationary. We’ve all seen the same clouds and buildings pass by over and over again as the characters drove down the road. This was known as “reusable backgrounds.” I have also read the characters wore collars, ties, and the like to hide the seams between body parts. Yet, who really noticed? I never did.

It has been said HB had the most extensive sound effects library in the world. We still hear HB sound effects in programming that reminds of us these terrific cartoons. Their work endures because it was unbeatable.

HB received a lot of criticism for their animation technique due to quality issues – yet we have continued to watch their cartoon efforts for nearly 70 years. What’s more, their approach to animation has continued in modern day cartoons like The Simpsons, which has remained in continuous production and programming for more than three decades with the same result. It continues to make us laugh.

Hanna-Barbera, founded in 1957, remained in continuous operation until it was absorbed into Warner Brothers in 2001. Without question, HB dominated the animation market until the 1980s when the cartoon began to change. In fact, things began to change in 1966 when the company was acquired by Taft Broadcasting, which held ownership until 1991, which was when Turner Broadcasting, which turned it all into The Cartoon Network in 1992.

William Hanna’s death in 2001 virtually led to the very end of what had always been Hanna-Barbera. It was all absorbed into Warner Brothers in 2001. Despite the business changes following Hanna’s passing, the efforts of Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera remain, giving us abundant laughter that will endure for generations.

The Seventies was period of transition from what had always been to a time of radical change. Baby Boomers brought forth a fresh spirit of personal freedom void of oppression. We were going to change the world – and did! However, young people also had to grow up despite that “We got love…” stuff when we were living off the folks, thumbing our way around the country, bumming some pocket change, and rolling around under the sheets with not a care in the world.

Destiny would find each of us. It always does…

Making love, not War, often meant unintended consequences.

Those unintended consequences meant life – and responsibility – which weren’t always popular. War, also not popular, meant responsibility and carnage. Someone had to live it firsthand in the steamy jungles of Vietnam while politicians sat in the comfort of their climate-controlled homes and offices.

The latter remains true today.

The Seventies today takes on a different meaning than a period of time long since gone – that moment when you realize you are not 21 anymore and 80 is but a decade away. The Seventies now – versus memories of The Seventies a half-century ago.

I just turned 70 and I’m feeling a bit disoriented.

Me? Seventy? Seventy was something our parents and grandparents were, never us. We were never going to grow old. Isn’t that what we said in the Seventies?

We’re still in denial about our advancing ages – and Madison Avenue is up to the task with “age defying” products. Daytime TV is awash with pharmaceuticals, skin cream, exercise machines, stair elevators, and life insurance commercials.

“Shouldn’t You Call Now?” Thank goodness for the remote control.

Some of us never lived to see 70. That’s how I see it. Seventy beats the alternative. Roughly one-third of my graduating class is reportedly gone – never living to see 70. One classmate was killed in a car crash in front of his home in our senior year. Another was shot to death in a robbery in Baltimore. Countless others have passed from everything imaginable.

Maybe it’s time to stop being delusional and come to grips with our own mortality. Our passing is inevitable. However, we still have a lot of living to do despite our ages. I say make the most of the time you’ve been given where doable. Seek the simple things in life because a whole lot of us cannot afford that European vacation let alone a weekend escape from Scranton.

We can, however, take a nice walk in the woods, sit on a park bench, walk the mall, people watch, take a drive, sit at the airport, watch people bowl, take in the spring or fall air, watch the leaves change, and do volunteer work to feel better about ourselves. Few things nurture the soul better than helping others who could use our support. That is somthing I need to try myself. All of my life, I’ve yacked endlessly about doing volunteer work to help Veterans.

Time for me to put my money where my mouth is.

Bowie Senior High’s Class of 1975 Reunion. Bowie, Maryland. Yeah – 50 years…

When I was coming of age in the mid-1970s, I had huge wanderlust. I wanted to hit the American highway in my Mustang and see the world. My high school sweetheart and I hit the road and drove to New York, and then to Canada and had a glorious time seeing things we’d never seen before. We’d head off to see my cousin in New Hampshire or take a weekend and run down to Virginia Beach. The road was ours.

The beauty of being young and naive is you’re not afraid to try something you’ve never tried before. The same can be true as a senior citizen. Dare to embark on a journey that will take you where you’ve never been. Do something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the cash or courage. As long as you have some measure of health, just do it. These journeys are always best when shared with a friend.

The best advice I can offer anyone cresting the Seventies is never to lose that sense of wonderment about the world around us. I take pleasure in escaping to the peace and quiet to watch nature at work. Because I like home and hearth best, I will sit on my suburban L.A. patio and just watch the sky, the birds, the squirrels, ravens, and the doves. The sun will set and the Moon will rise with the opportunity to explore the cosmos. The world is waiting for you right outside your window.

I am thankful for having lived the era in which we all grew up – the post-war years. When I was a kid growing up in the 1960s, America was on the rise, we were headed to the moon, and there seemed no end to the great things we could achieve together.

One of those great American achievements was Suburbia, which enabled families to get out of the cities and into safe and secure communities. It gave most of us a nicer place in which to grow up. Aside from a few neighborhood bullies, it could be considered safe. Most suburban areas brought us new well-maintained schools, playgrounds, parks, community centers, and places of worship.

Crime was considered an “urban” problem.

Acres of vacant land became newly erected shopping centers with retail stores we grew to know and trust. Many are gone today. Shopping was a family tradition. Grand openings were routine. We never had to want for anything because it was all provided in abundance, with easy access within a few minutes of the house.

I was born in Northwest D.C. and grew up around the district line. I did a horrible D.C. commute for work in the 1970s, entered the USAF, and left D.C. behind. The irony is I couldn’t wait to get out of D.C., which is strange considering I find myself homesick for a place that no longer exists.

The great American pastime growing up was driving around suburbia touring model homes and apartments. Developers were everywhere, seeking out their slice of the American Pie – which was either profitable or a huge bust.

There were weekends where we’d visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins over in Wheaton one hour away. There was that tedious drive over to Arlington to see my grandparents before the freeways were built. We’d head down U.S. 50 to New York Avenue and follow a bizarre path into the District around the Lincoln Memorial, across Memorial Bridge to Arlington to Washington & Lee Apartments.

My grandparents were retired and shared friendships with retired blue hairs at the apartments – which was where I cultivated a deep love of old people. at such a young age, I loved their stories and felt such profound sadness at their eyes, wondering what happened in a life suddenly behind them.

Today – at 70 – I can relate to their emotions.

Washington & Lee Apartments at the intersection of Arlington and Washington boulevards is a charming period apartment complex that came of the Federal Housing Act enacted in WWII. It has been a safe home and harbor for untold thousands of tenants for 80 years. It was home to my family long ago.

When we were living in Lanham/New Carrollton, Maryland in the early 1960s, my folks decided to drive out to the country for a look at a new Levitt & Sons community – “Belair At Bowie” – which was little more than seven model homes along Maryland’s Route 50 (now 450) near Bowie, Maryland.

Developer William “Bill” Levitt of Levittown fame knew what he was doing. What seemed a forgotten place in the middle of nowhere was opportunity waiting to be realized. Levitt purchased 17,000 acres of rich farmland that included the iconic Belair Mansion and stables that Levitt left untouched.

Levitt’s Belair was located where the new John Hanson Highway (Route 50) would unfold as the Washington-Annapolis Expressway at the intersection of Maryland’s Route 3/301 North to Baltimore. You could jump on the new Route 50 and be in D.C. in 30 minutes. Ditto for Baltimore and Annapolis.

Image Courtesy Sue Emery Manganaro, circa 1961, in the Somerset Section of a new Belair At Bowie community by Levitt & Sons.

The quiet and innocence wouldn’t last long. By 1966, Bowie was the fastest growing city in the United States, with more than 9,000 homes before Levitt wrapped in 1969. Belair was where I grew up and came of age in the 1970s. Those who never left Bowie wonder what happened to the relative peace and quiet of suburbia.

Stop me if you’ve experienced this phenomenon.

Fear of a strange bathroom…

If you’re boomer who grew up in a post-war America, you remember the rapid spin of the mid-20th Century. Our hometowns changed rapidly and evolved quickly in the decades to follow. Vast stretches of land became housing developments, shopping centers, and office buildings. And now, we’re in our latter years with a host of memories from the era – some we’d rather not talk about.

Among my boomer memories is toilet phobia – fear of a strange bathroom.

I’ve learned fear of a strange bathroom is not an unusual phenomenon. Edith Bunker of the popular 1970s sitcom “All In The Family” spoke of husband Archie’s anxiety about using a strange bathroom. Audiences erupted with laughter when she mentioned it because I think they could relate to it. It humiliated poor Archie, who’d rather no one knew about it. Edith just couldn’t police her impulsivity to say things without thinking first.

A former neighbor of mine told me he could not use a strange toilet away from his home. I was surprised he’d tell anyone. He would go to work and struggle with the intestinal distress and misery that go with “holding” it. My youngest son is not comfortable with using any toilet away from the house at age 17.

Because I went through aggressive toilet training at age 1-2, toilets gave me the creeps. I have often wondered why.

I believe because we are so small and seemingly vulnerable during toilet training, there’s something very intimidating about a toilet bowl. At such a young age, your face is close to the rim and faced with that darned trap way, which is larger than life where objects are flushed away and never seen again.

At age two – that’s creepy.

For a two-year old not much taller than a toilet bowl, this was a very intimidating sight, that “one-eyed smile,” especially under the parental pressure of toilet training. I’ve never known a kid who enjoyed potty training.

There was something creepy about that passageway where the contents of a flush vanished with great speed. It was mysterious because I had no idea where the stuff went and my mother didn’t have a suitable explanation for where it went either.

I also never understood why water remained in a toilet when there was an open passage where water flowed out yet always remained. My grandfather explained to me that a toilet passageway was an elbow like the trap you see under a sink where water is there to keep sewer gasses out of the house.

It wasn’t until I entered the Air Force that I got over toilet phobia. There’s a lot to be said for not having a choice. You had limited time to sit on the toilet before it was time to fall out. You sat down, did your business, and joined the ranks.

My very first airplane ride was in December of 1961 at the dawn of the Jet Age. My father was headed for a two-year tour of duty at Pearl Harbor with the NSA. He was a career cryptologist at the height of the Cold War. The ol’ man was a Navy guy who came out of the service and went right into the NSA.

When we were living in Hawaii during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, he didn’t come home for more than a week. My mother was pacing the floors, sick with worry, wondering where he was and if he was ever coming home. She didn’t hear from him until he walked through the door. He never apologized or explained.

In the weeks leading up to our move to the Pacific, my mother spoke of our new home in Hawaii and the upcoming trip out there on a jet. At age five, I had no idea what an airplane was, let alone a jet. We boarded a United Airlines Boeing 720, a downsized long-range version of the legendary 707, at Baltimore’s Friendship International Airport (now BWI) for the ride to Kansas City’s Municipal Airport to spend Christmas with family in Independence before jetting off to Honolulu.

That two weeks in Missouri were miserable. We all came down with the flu and spent the visit in bed. It was very bewildering for a little man. My Uncle Johnny, who was a captain with Trans World Airlines, had an aluminum Christmas tree with a color wheel, which seemed odd to a little guy like me.

I didn’t know some trees were made of metal.

When it was time to fly away, we boarded another United Boeing 720 for the 600 mph ride to San Francisco International. My mother hated the approach into SFO – with nothing but water beneath the aircraft until we landed.

My Aunt Marilyn picked us up at SFO and headed to their apartment in Oakland across the Bay for dinner and nap time. That night, she ran us over to Travis AFB for the Pan Am 707 ride to Oahu. I still don’t know how she got all of us into a VW Beetle, including all of our luggage.

My mother, terrified of flying, was alarmed by the sparks coming from the ethanol-injected Pratt & Whitney jet exhausts. My dad always jokingly said she held the plane up all the way to Hawaii.

Pan Am’s iconic Boeing 707 was seen and heard around the world. Pan Am was the first to offer trans-Atlantic service from New York to Paris in October of 1958. From then on it was Pie In The Sky with the “World’s Most Experienced Airline.” My dad flew Pan Am all over the Northern Hemisphere. He commented Pan Am would always get you there – but never left on time.

When we deplaned at Honolulu in the wee hours of the morning, we were welcomed with the traditional Hawaiian greeting and hopped into a rental car for the trek to Pearl City Highlands.

What stands out most in my Jet Age memories was the service. Impeccable service from United. At the time – “Pie in The Sky” was genuinely Pie In the Sky. We were served meals on heavy china and handed silverware. You wonder how the darned thing ever got off the ground. The reason I remember what we flew on were the overhead passenger service pods unique to Boeing aircraft at the time along with starburst lightning and seats that were actually comfortable.

United’s JT3C turbojet powered 720, which was the dominate bird from coast to coast and for the regional milk runs. These things cruised at 600+ mph. Coast to coast in four hours – faster than the pistonliners and smoother to boot.

Of course, nothing remains the same including the airline industry, which has had its share of challenges since the 1960s. Deregulation handed the industry freedom to grow in 1978, which was a dual-edge sword because growth got a lot of airlines into trouble. They had greater plans than they had money. Deregulation also presented stiff competition that has been, at times, unsustainable. Some of the greatest names in airline history are gone now or have been merged into other carriers.

United, once a great name in the industry, is now what used to be Continental Airlines, which took advantage of United’s bankruptcy in the wake of the September 11th attacks, surviving in name only. Today’s United Airlines is nothing more than a renamed Continental Airlines. Investor-driven United offers the same disappointing service that was always a given on Continental.

America West, an aggressive upstart, absorbed a bankrupt USAir, then systematically acquired the biggest fish – a bankrupt American Airlines. AA isn’t former CEO Robert Crandall’s American Airlines. American, as we long knew it, was a great airline in gleaning polished aluminum and a paint scheme dating back to 1969.

This iconic polished aluminum livery for American Airlines in 1968 was conceived by designer Massimo Vignelli of Vignelli Associates, which created this legendary look with red, white, and blue stripes over aluminum and the world-renowned Helvetica font. The “Scissor Eagle” logo on the tail was added by the Henry Dreyfuss firm. People jokingly called the scissor eagle look “praying hands.”

In closing, I will tell you flying today is nothing like the sweet memories of 60 years ago. Change began with deregulation and the growing flying public population. With that growth came torn tee shirts, ripped jeans, and passengers who saw jetliners as nothing more than flying busses. People used to board jetliners dressed appropriately for the occasion who understood common courtesy. The more affordable flying became, the lower the benchmark.

Still…I never board a plane without marveling at the excitement of flight. I can board a plane in Los Angeles and be on the ground in Baltimore in four hours. With a strong tailwind, you can cross this continent in four hours flat.

Why would anyone not be moved by that?

I have been frequenting Memphis, Tennessee now for decades. If you think you know Memphis, you likely do not know Memphis at all. Memphis is the cradle of true American culture – best known for the Blues and also the birthplace of Rock and Roll.

There’s a certain charm about the place – a survival spirit that keeps the city thriving. As one Memphian said to me, “Two steps forward. One step backwards…” about his beloved Memphis. There are bright spots that make you want to stay and negatives that make you wonder why you like the city so much.

Memphis is its people – an underdog spirit that keeps Memphians forging ahead despite the odds. My son, Brendan (Bubba), having grown up in West Tennessee, has embraced Memphis and called the area home since his birth in 1995.

He’s passionate about Memphis.

I believe what drew Brendan to Memphis was sports – The Grizzlies basketball team – which has had his support for more than two decades. He is also loyal to The Tennessee Titans 180 miles away in Nashville.

Both a sport writer and enthusiast, Bubba can tell you in great detail what the team and the city are all about. He has never wavered from his loyalty. Memphis seems an unlikely metropolis for a team known as The Grizzlies. To understand the name, you have to know the team’s history. Founded in 1995, the year of my son’s birth, The Grizzlies originated in Vancouver, B.C. Canada before moving to Memphis in 2001. They play at the FedEx Forum, an all-encompassing state-of-the-art facility in the heart of Memphis one block from legendary Beale Street.

Brendan came up with a wonderful idea. Because the grandbabies were on spring break the week of my 70th birthday, I decided to fly to Tennessee for their time off. Brendan invited me to The Grizzlies vs Nuggets game on March 18th. I drove over to Covington just north of Memphis and rode down to the Forum with him for a closer look at the underdog Grizzlies. The odds were against The Grizzlies that evening.

Real Memphis BBQ at B.B. King’s Blues Club on Beale.

The NBA explains the game.

“Ty Jerome had 21 points, nine rebounds and nine assists as the Memphis Grizzlies snapped their eight-game losing streak Wednesday night with a 125-118 victory over the Denver Nuggets.”

“Olivier-Maxence Prosper scored 19 points and GG Jackson added 16 for the injury-depleted Grizzlies (24-44), who are 4-15 in their last 19 games after winning for the first time since March 1 at Indiana.”

“Cedric Coward provided 15 points and seven rebounds. Taylor Hendricks scored 13 off the bench and made six of Memphis’ 12 steals as the Nuggets (42-28) committed 19 turnovers in the makeup of a game postponed Jan. 25 because of bad weather.”

“Nikola Jokic had 29 points, 14 rebounds and nine assists for Denver, just missing his sixth triple-double in the past eight games – although he did rack up 10 turnovers.”

“Christian Braun scored 26 points and Cameron Johnson added 20. Jamal Murray had 19 points, 12 assists and eight rebounds.”

“Denver remained percentage points behind Houston for fifth place in the Western Conference and fell a game behind fourth-place Minnesota.”

“On the second night of a back-to-back for the Nuggets, forward Aaron Gordon sat out to manage a hamstring injury. Denver beat Philadelphia 124-96 at home Tuesday night.”

“Jerome just missed his first career triple-double. He and Jackson sat out Monday night’s 132-107 loss in Chicago due to injuries.“

In the end in a very tight neck and neck nailbiter, the Grizzlies beat the Nuggets 125-118. The best part of the evening was sharing time with my son. Our evening began at B.B. King’s Blues Club for fine dining in true Memphis BBQ style. The best part of the experience was watching people taking in the city and its hot spots.

An incredible evening spent in Memphis taking in the Grizzlies/Nuggets game, with the Grizzlies taking the win at 125/118.

I think what made the evening magical was the time spent with Brendan in his element. A young man who has played basketball aggressively, Brendan knew the game and the strategy. He walked me through it. Sitting next to me, he was better than the game’s announcer. As the game rolled on, with the manic emotion of highs and lows, the energy on the court was remarkable. The Grizzles never fell far behind and always pulled out. It was neck and neck through the fourth quarter.

Bubba – Thank You for one of the most memorable evenings I’ve ever spent.