This blogger's relatively recent acquisition of a computer has afforded many opportunities to "catch up" with the kaleidoscopic cornucopia of wonders available in cyberspace while riding on the "magic carpet" that is this phenomenal machine. Often imagined is the reactions of persons in history who have returned to life in the 21st century and are, again fantastically, my guests. High on my list of "show and tell" for these time travelers is of course, this incredible device par excellence of the Information Superhighway. An especially favorite scenario however, is the following: am driving George Washington and giving him a tour of New York. The conveyance itself, a 2012 internal combustion engine powered vehicle, weatherproof and comfortable, is causing the eyeballs of the Father of Our Country to bulge dangerously. I then grow anxious about the sights and sounds (outside and spectacularly visible through big clear windows of my spiffy new sedan) that appear capable of overloading his brain and blinding my most dear V.I.P. After all, other speeding cars, trucks, motorcycles, majestic bridges spanning the East and Hudson rivers (the former that he could not ford and employed longboats to riskily cross after The Battle of Brooklyn), jet planes, subways, skyscrapers, skywriting, Skype, stadia, television, true tales of men on the Moon, radio, movies, and on and on: any one of these could shock our beloved Prez No.1 into a crazed euphoria and/or fearfulness that he might never recover from. But heck! This is, I tell myself, a dream and the worst that could happen is that our wonderful spiritual Dad and surveyor from ol' Virginny might buy the farm with a coronary. Well, duh… can harm come to a dead man? So give George the four star tour and let's not spare the eye candy! When his peepers have absorbed but a tenth of the afore mentioned goodies of what is one huge Coney Island for him (metro N.Y. as Dreamland, natch) more surrealism is quite logically in order: utter amazement causes his wooden teeth to defy gravity and come flying out of his mouth as the last straw breaks the metaphorical camel's back. Was it the loop-de-loops performed by the Army's Blue Knights F-16 fighter squadron over, appropriately, Coney Island's pristine beach (well, in George's day anyhow) that did it or was it that Skyping session with my cousin in Germany that made the First in War, First In Peace Guy start searching for his choppers. Am not sure: I'm starting to get dizzy too with all this empathy for him and for his take on what is far beyond awesome for this iconic guy from the eighteenth century. I owe him a stiff drink. Rum, I mean grog, might help and here goes, and I mean it sincerely: "Mr. President, thank you for coming. I hope I haven't disturbed or frightened you. Oh, I withdraw the second part of that sentence. You are the epitome of fearlessness to us, your descendants. You see sir, these incredible and stupendous sights are not imported from some other planet. They are the fruits of you and your generation's efforts: those of simple but steadfast bravery, intelligence, hard work, faith in Science as well as of a Supreme Being. Reasoning, rationality, prudence and yet daring, unbounded energy married to self-control, all these were and are the gifts you bestowed on us. This, if you will pardon the immodesty, is what we have made of them. Thank you.
"Now if you don't mind, I would like to further soothe any anxieties you may still have (oh, may I hit you again on the rum'n cola?). There's a great joint, er, restaurant…you see, you are in luck sir. After all, this is New York (what?….no sir, not a trace of the fire remains…also, glad you missed the plague in Poe's day....actually, thankfully, so did I). What I mean is… I have located an authentic American colonial-style cuisine establishment. Yes, that's right. They have your favorite: peanut soup and unlimited refills on Indian and hasty pudding. Tripe? Yes, sir, as good as at Valley Forge…..oh, I beg your pardon sir. Yes, of course, I couldn't agree more when you say 'no reprising gastronomic effort however loving and well meaning could quite compare to that stick-to-the-ribs Pepper Pot that was served that winter that near starvation and the seeming disappearance of certain vital appendages of most of our men due to minus 14 degree evenings in camp occurred.' Oh, what's that sir? You're getting hungry? 'Any port in a storm'? Didn't know that expression dated back that far. How silly of me: the Egyptians had ocean going fleets. What? Oh, wonderful sir. Glad you're feeling better. Yes, the entrance is right here. That? Oh, it's called a jukebox. It's a device that will play music. Yes, I promise. No, there are no small men inside of it. Well, it's actually a tad passe. We have something called YouTube now. Never mind sir. You've had a long day and a long journey. No, I think Paul Revere and The Raiders would be something of a disappointment for you, sir. Yes, if you must, it's C-42. But perhaps consider a country tune…maybe a Virginia reel by Bill Monroe? No, no relation to James, I don't believe so. Country music? Well, it's based on rural rhythms of the American heartland: our original folk music. Well, yes, that's right. It is the music of this country and I don't know quite why it's not the music of our entire country. You see there have been tremendous sociological changes since your presidency, sir. Well, there have been non-European influences and…oh, well if you just press that white square button there. Oh, sorry you'll need a quarter, I mean…two pieces of eight in one coin. Uh…you'll never guess whose image is on its obverse. Yes, of course, Mr. President: heads you win, tails I lose. And welcome home. sir."
No comments:
Post a Comment