Reminiscing into the 21st Century

Written by: Bob Rehak
Edited by: Sharon Estill
Joboja Staff Writers

Just as an angel gets his wings every time a bell rings, a deceased parent of anyone born after 1950 spins in his grave every time a cash register rings up the sale of bottled water.

The 21st century was the time of great discoveries; of space exploration and rapid advancements in technology and medicine. Your parents marveled at grainy television screens and the wonders of Bayer aspirin. Today we have televisions that have pictures more realistic than actually being there, and the new wonder drug is a little blue pill.

Looking back, it appears that the world hit a wall sometime around May, 2000. Every convenience we'll ever need has been invented. We're out of ideas. We started bottling water and paying a premium for the privilege. Our parents had the same idea back in the 60s'. It was a called a thermos. Of course, back then they had quaint little phrases like "the family car." Nowadays, the typical American family of four (Mom, Dad and two teens from different marriages) has a minimum of 3 cars. Two of them belong to the kids. The "family car" is the last one in the driveway.

Our parents also had "family dinners," when everyone sat at the table at the same time and ate the same food. Nowadays the only time that happens is when everyone is in the SUV at the same time as they drive through McDonald's. And I swear, there's a McDonald's being built every time Ronald sneezes.

Our parents also had maps – real maps. We mistakenly thought my parents were saving up all those years while we waited for them to take us to Disney World. It turns out my father was just busy taking 4 years of origami lessons to learn how to fold a map before he dared to take the station wagon onto the interstate. Today you couldn't get lost if ABC put you on a plane with Matthew Fox. First, the GPS would tell you which way to turn and if you failed to obey, the OnStar operator would send an emergency vehicle to your exact location, whether you liked it nor not. (By the way, why do all those OnStar operators on those commercials have Southern accents? Just asking.)

My parents also had a "record collection" stored in the basement that took up an entire wall (until someone used the Sinatra albums as bases for a Nerf baseball game – ahem). Today people keep their entire music collections stored in their pants. We walk around with iPods smaller than an overpriced $8 pack of cigarettes that can contain 20,000 songs. Who needs to walk around with 20,000 songs stuffed in his Dockers? You're never going to listen to them all. At an average of 3 minutes per song, that's 60,000 minutes of music. That translates into a Lenten-sized 40 days and 40 nights of music.

Of course, people like to listen to their iPods in that room in the house that our parents never even heard of – the "home gym." It may be ambitious to put all that exercise equipment in the room previously reserved for the record collection, but studies have found that no one ever went more than 19 days without walking past that room and giving it the same disgusted, buyer's remorse look my neighbor gives when he looks out his backyard every morning at his five-year-old herd of alpacas ("the investment of a lifetime").

If you think you can't live without a home gym, here's a shopping tip: there's a HUGE sale on ellipticals, treadmills and weight sets this weekend. Just look for any sign that says "Garage Sale." If they offer free steaks with every purchase, they're also clearing out the alpacas.

My Dad had a cute name for his home gym equipment. He called it "the floor" and "the stairs". He could do push-ups, sit-ups, and crunches on the floor (any floor in any room) and get a nice cardio workout on the stairs (especially chasing someone who just finished a game of Sinatra Nerf baseball).