Everything's Plastic, Everything's Fake

I just got an old record player. This thing is big beautiful and real. It is encased in about a five foot long, three foot tall solidly built, beautifully crafted wood cabinet. It has the classic RCA insignia of the dog listening to the victrola below reading “His master’s voice.” Listening to it and watching the vinyl record turning I was reminded that there was once a time when everything was real. I, on the other hand, have grown up in a plastic world.

I knew only plastic milk cartons rather than glass bottles, plastic car bumpers rather than chrome, Federal Reserve notes rather than silver dollars, vinyl records rather than plastic compact discs and plastic and particleboard furniture rather than solid wood.

I enjoy walking through antique shops and looking through all the creations of the past (often distant past) realizing they are real and lasting. I was always especially interested in and in awe of the majesty of the old wood furniture radios and record players, even the first television sets. They have the charm of the old time personalities they brought into the living rooms of American families. Looking at an old box radio I see a family gathered around it listening to radio shows acted out entirely through voices. Looking at an old cabinet record player I hear Nat King Cole’s ‘When I Fall in Love’ and ‘Unforgettable’ and Glenn Miller’s ‘Midnight Serenade’ and ‘In the Mood.’

I am reminded of a nation that was more united in both its weaknesses and its strengths. Thinking of the fears stirred by Orson Welles’ radio depiction of H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds. Also of President Franklin Roosevelt’s war speech ‘A Day of Infamy.’ Looking at these pieces I see and hear a see a world, a time, a people and a nation I never knew.