Dodo’s & Dinosaurs

A thought hit me recently while watching the Academy Awards.

I’m a creature from another time.

The things I love are going the way of the dodo bird.

The dodo– for the discerning reader– was a flightless bird native to Mauritius, an island in the Indian Ocean, that went extinct in the 1700s.

I’m not quite extinct, but many of the things I cherish are heading that way.

Recently, my family and I spent an afternoon at the Dinosaur Museum in Cocoa Beach.

We wondered why the museum is in Cocoa, but it was a fun afternoon regardless.

And it reminded me that no matter how big and dominant something may be, there’s no guarantee it will last.

We are one asteroid away from having our world changed forever.

That asteroid may be literal, or it may be figurative, but the results are the same: disruption and possible destruction.

Sigh.

And so it goes that the things I cherish—once mainstream—are now fading.

Here’s but a few examples.

Movies, in a theater.

Sean Baker, who just won an Oscar for best director, issued a battle cry for the film industry when he won for Anora. He noted that over 1,000 theaters have closed since the pandemic and the rise of streaming.

“Watching a film in a theater with an audience is an experience…and in a time in which the world can feel very divided, this is more important than ever,” he said.

Indeed.

There is something magical about the big screen, about that shared experience. Those of us who grew up going to the multiplex remember going with friends and family. We remember first dates at the movies and talking about what we just saw after the film.

I remember taking my friend, who became a horror film director, on my first ever date with a  girl named Sue in the sixth grade. I was too shy and intimidated to go alone, so I arranged to have him “run into me”  at the theatre in the Smith Haven Mall.

We saw a Woody Allen film with Sue’s  her older sister and her boyfriend. I watched in horror as the older sister spent the movie kissing her boyfriend. My date looked at me expectedly and I fled to the lobby with my buddy to buy Milk Duds and strategize.

I never did see “Love and Death.” I was too busy dodging Sue.

I spent the one hour and 25 minutes trying to figure out what to do with a girl who ultimately lost patience with me and dumped me for the kid in the classroom across the hall.

Without movie theaters, we can’t have that kind of experience. What a loss that would be. (P.S. future dates went better, for the most part).

My battle cry for the film industry: start making more films that people want to see. Too many tired rip-offs and sequels. Let’s get back to storytelling. Maybe then, if ticket prices are reasonable, the movie theater can survive a while longer.

I also will miss newspapers— that you hold because I fear they are on the way out. Magazines too.

Bookstores, especially independent ones.

Albums, with their cover art and liner notes which were art forms in and of themselves. There’s just something about the needle drop and singing along with the lyrics to the music of Tom Petty that makes that moment in time special. Much to the chagrin of my better half, I’m holding on to my albums even though I will probably never play them again. (Don’t tell Diane).

Why hold on to the records? No rational reason, but if you know, you know. My friends and I used to take the Long Island Railroad to NYC to hunt for bargain records and imports in Greenwich Village. Albums were $4.44 in those days, if I recall. A ten dollar bill would buy you two records and a Sabrett hotdog. We found paradise in the Big Apple.

I also fear for the fate of “third places”, those spaces and places, that hold and build community are said to be diminishing in numbers, according to the New York Times.

I sure hope we hold onto our diners, cafes, coffee shops and pubs.

Sadly, I think rock and roll may be on the ropes too.  Yes, there is great music being made, but rock is not the cultural force it once was. I miss the days when a song or an album could shift the conversation. Boy do we need to shift the conversation.

I think truth is having a hard time these days. It seems that we are now entitled to our very own facts, science, election results and history. Welcome back measles, goodbye to any notion of collective responsibility. “We Take Care of Our Own”, a song Bruce Springsteen released about a decade or go, summarizes my point of view. It sure seems like a quaint notion in these days of division.

I miss the truth. It needs to make a comeback soon.

My list can go on. But I’ve decided to check the movie listings instead.

But first I’m going to dig out my worn copy of Elton John’s “Captain Fantastic and The Brown Dirt Cowboy.” I can’t play that classic album but I can admire the cover art and Bernie Taupin’s timeless lyrics.

Rest In Peace

We send our condolences to the family and co-workers of Irving Adams, a beloved recreation supervisor for Delray Parks and Recreation who passed recently.

Irving was a wonderful man and a great presence at the Community Center for decades. He worked for the city for almost 30 years. I remember his warmth, his smile and the fact that he knew everyone who came into the building. What a kind man. He will be deeply missed and warmly remembered for his kindness and professionalism.