The Wonderful Wizard

It has been official for some time now.... I am old.  Tell-tale signs are being referred to as “Maam,” starting way too many stories, “When I was younger ----” and longing for a simpler time when the music was better, the pace slower and the nation on more stable ground.

 

I still chuckle (even though deep down I’m growling) when I share the time at a work meeting with intergenerational staff, someone mentioned the Olympics and we began sharing about grand Olympic moments and I shared, “Has to be the Miracle on Ice when USA Hockey beat the favored Russians. I still remember where I was. Does anyone else remember?” At this point a young’un shared, “Sally, I wasn’t born yet.”  Ouch.  

This also happens when discussing films and one has to say, “The original FOOTLOOSE….”

 

Yet, there is one movie I believe we can still relate no matter our age.  That film is THE WIZARD OF OZ.”  Today, is the birthday of Frank L. Baum, the author who wrote the book.

 

Those of us of a certain age, can recall the days when television had four channels (CBS, ABC, NBC and PBS). Once a year one of the stations would air “THE WIZARD OF OZ,” it was usually in the Springtime and everyone we gathered around the family set.  The next day we talked about it with friends and would exclaim how scary were the flying monkeys, the love we had for the cowardly lion and to remember this handy tip when faced with the encounter of a witch: water melts ‘em.

 

Even before the pandemic, we have lost a sense of community. When people talk about getting back to normal, my response is we need to do some improvements first. 

 

I loved my first Walk-Man. However, it also broadened one’s perspective hearing a variety of music on long car rides with the family. Personally, it is how I came to appreciate the music of the girl groups of the sixties and the classic rock of the seventies. (One more sign of being old, the music of your youth is now featured on the Oldies station…sigh…..)

With hundreds of channels and multiple television sets in homes, one can watch what one wants. Yet, there are lessons of patience learned when sitting through another episode of “Gunsmoke” because that was your father’s favorite program.  

What connects us? What are the shared moments to which we can each experience and then discuss?  

Think about it, Little League has been replaced by travel leagues; church has become irrelevant with large segments of the population identifying their religious affiliation as “none;” and a community-sponsored bake sale was always sketchy and in the pandemic era near obsolete. 

How to connect? We need to answer this one or, I fear, the community we need and want will become something left to be granted and given by  the great Wizard of Oz.