The harvest is in
The harvest is in. This would have been a reason for rejoicing, in earlier times. Now, it’s just a detail in my life. The field below here is not mine. I don’t plow it, or sow it, or send in the crews to gather in the crop. I just watch what goes on, with the same level of understanding that my dog offers when he sees me doing things that don’t concern him. The machines drove away, late this afternoon, and we’ll have no late night spraying for another three years. On that note, let the party begin.
I have started reliving my life. Today, I watched the pilot episode of Get Smart, which was first broadcast about the time I figured out how to read a TV schedule. And I brought with me a critical eye. This was one notch above slapstick. The program was a seed from the mind of Mel Brooks; a nod to the Cold War mentality, where spies were everywhere. And it was funny. The sound effects reminded me of early Batman episodes, without the colourful captions. The science behind a ringing shoe-phone doesn’t need to be explained (yes, there was a predecessor to the iPhone). And going to the lockers in the train station are something that my children will need to experience on their own. Imagine dropping a quarter in a slot and leaving your precious belongings behind, as you explored the city.
Did I mention the science? The idea of a laser weapon hidden on a garbage barge loaded with rubber trash is closer to reality now than a half century ago, but it will never happen, outside of an old TV show.
