Fireworks, a Moving Van and Metro-Survivalists

By David Drucker

We went to the July 4th fireworks on the Charles River for the last time. Maybe it was my thoughts about our upcoming exodus and the descent of public life in the US to a crass corporate-sponsored marketing opportunity, or perhaps it was just a decision by some tacky TV producer, but this year Boston’s fireworks show was marred by an obnoxious World-Wide Wrestling-style announcer over the speakers along the riverbank that the ‘BOSTON POPS FIREWORKS SPECTACULAR COMING TO YOU FROM BOOSTOOON, WILL BE RIGHT BACK AFTER THESE MESSAGES…’ At any rate, the last of our yearly July 4th fireworks shows ended with a bang as well as a whimper (at least in terms of a plea for good taste). I remember past years that were bigger, better, and more exciting, and were certainly devoid of crass announcers that made you feel like you were at a Monster Truck Rally. All in all, our last night in our town was loud, colorful, and definitely ‘American’ in all senses (good and bad) of the word.

The moving van showed up the next morning at around 9:30. There were three guys, with one of them clearly the leader (no, he didn’t have a haircut like Moe Howard, thank goodness). The whole emptying out of our possessions took about 4 hours, including the packing of all of our dishes, glasses and art. I hope we don’t get too many casualties.

As for the bed (mentioned in an earlier posting), we drained it, disassembled it, and dragged the pieces out to the curb (with the help of the moving guys) with a sign that read: “Free Waterbed”. We went inside our now empty house, swept (or to be more accurate, swiffed) the stairways and ground floor, and took showers, since it was pretty hot. We then decided to get some lunch at a nearby restaurant before we left town. On our way out the door, we noticed that the bed was already gone. Estimated elapsed time: 20 minutes. In fact, we saw two guys in the Dante Alighieri parking lot loading the bed on top of their car. They had taken everything except the bag. Our neighbor noted that since it was now just a bag, it really was just trash and should be taken out a few days later, so we began to drag it back into our back yard with the rest of our trash that was to be taken care of by neighbors and our realtor. As we were doing this, the bag sprung a leak and water gushed all over the pavement. The fifteen-year estimated life-span of our waterbed bag was indeed exactly fifteen years, and lucky for us, it expired on schedule, on the pavement rather than our third floor bedroom.

We drove out of town, stopping first at the cable company to drop off our cable modem. The drive to Roxbury Connecticut was hot, but went by quickly. We spent a pleasant evening with my friends Rob and Laura in the country, and then continued on to Ho-Ho-Kus, New Jersey, were we had dinner, saw a movie, and stayed in the guest-room of my cousins. Finally, after traffic-filled, but relatively smooth trip down the New Jersey Turnpike and a bit more of Route 95, we arrived here at my parent’s house in Baltimore. Today we dropped the car off with a young woman who we met back in Connecticut through my friends there, in Georgetown, DC. All continues to go well and on schedule. We are definitely on our way.

Beyond the Day-to-day
I’m still excited to be starting a new chapter, but I’m also sad to leave so many good things behind: Friends, colleagues, and beautiful places (some in the city, some in the country). As I was listening to the old chestnuts people sang on July 4th like ‘This Land is Your Land’ and ‘America the Beautiful’, I thought for a moment or two what it will be like to remember those as someone who left them behind.

I’ve often talked about how this country is not the country that I grew up in. Where to begin with so many small things that add up to so much? The country I grew up in was ‘The Good Guys’. America was admired, and perhaps even envied by the rest of the world (I remember how funny it was that other countries, like those in eastern Europe were so anxious to get blue jeans). I was constantly impressed by the stories about Franklin, Jefferson, Lincoln, Roosevelt and JFK. Few leaders of other countries, with the possible exception of Ghandi (as you might be able to tell from the quotes of him that I like to memorize), impressed me as much as those guys. I was proud of all the documents that guaranteed freedom of speech and the press. I was able to think thoughts like ‘That would never happen here’, unlike these days. I remember how we thought that the sky was the limit, that optimism and entrepreneurial zeal would win everybody over, and gee-whiz, we’d all end up rich, but help each other out on the way. Debt, like body fat, was something we didn’t accumulate in huge quantities, and although we didn’t necessarily do the right thing every time about the environment, we were getting a little better and one of these day’s we’d fix it - just give the scientists time to work it out. Maybe I’m overstating, but As Donald Fagen put it his song I.G.Y (which stood for International Geophysical Year):

Standing tough under stars and stripes
We can tell
This dream’s in sight
You’ve got to admit it
At this point in time that it’s clear
The future looks bright
On that train all graphite and glitter
Undersea by rail
Ninety minutes from New York to Paris
Well by seventy-six we’ll be A.O.K.

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

Get your ticket to that wheel in space
While there’s time
The fix is in
You’ll be a witness to that game of chance in the sky
You know we’ve got to win
Here at home we’ll play in the city
Powered by the sun
Perfect weather for a streamlined world
There’ll be spandex jackets one for everyone

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

On that train all graphite and glitter
Undersea by rail
Ninety minutes from New York to Paris
(More leisure for artists everywhere)
A just machine to make big decisions
Programmed by fellows with compassion and vision
We’ll be clean when their work is done
We’ll be eternally free yes and eternally young

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

How has this changed? Well, it’s not only about hating (yes, I must admit it, I hate) the man who sits in the Oval Office, as well as the craven Vice President. It’s not only about how the country is clouded over with signs that read ‘Call 311 for suspicious activity’ and TV Networks that spew political propaganda that Pravda would have been happy to print or broadcast. It’s not only about more homeless on the street with no attention paid to their plight, or the fact that children no longer learn music or art in many public schools, or that people seem to think that a magnetic ribbon on their gasoline-gulping SUV constitutes support for the troops in a war that just goes on and on as far as the eye can see. It’s not only the growing cultivation of religious fanatics, both here (the Christians) and abroad (the Muslims). It’s not only the fact that atheists are not even considered citizens and scientists are seen once again as heretics for teaching the facts of evolution. As far as I look on the horizon, I see decline for the US, socially, politically, intellectually, economically, and philosophically, and that saddens me more.

At the end of the movie ‘Three Days of the Condor’, Max von Sydow, the Swiss hit man, suggests to Robert Redford that he should move to Europe because if he stays in the US, sooner or later he’ll get murdered. Redford says that he can’t, that he’d miss America too much. I wonder how that line would be interpreted in a movie today?

My friend Rob said that he thought of me as a new statistic: a Metro-Survivalist. Instead of stocking a cave in the mountains with bottled water, food and firearms, I flee to a city of more opportunities (or at least one that doesn’t seem to be on this downward slope). I pointed out that this was often what led immigrants to countries for years, potato famine or whatever else led to the move, so this really isn’t anything new. What is new is that now it’s an American seeking his fortune in another country that just might be better, and that is the saddest thing of all.