Open Writing

I read somewhere, long ago, that a tolerance for delayed gratification is a sign of intelligence. I remembered it because all my life I have been greedy for clues that would support my desire to be smart. I was never willing to submit myself to objective tests for IQ, like the one MENSA offers, in case it showed without a shadow of a doubt, that my intellect was lacking. This philosophy has served me well through a long and testing life.

But getting back to delayed gratification, I served an intensive, but not enjoyable apprenticeship in how to wait until tomorrow for just about anything. On the wall of a pub I used to drive by regularly was a large sign that read, “Free Beer Tomorrow.” The message was like a mantra, and pretty much described my life up to that time.

My apprenticeship started in 1938, when I was five years old. Though war had not been officially declared, folks were hunkering down in anticipation of the worst. For many members of my family, the memories of shortages during World War I and the economic depression that followed were still vivid, though they had no idea how bad the deprivation would get in the years ahead of us.

Not long after the “start of hostilities,” to give it it’s polite name, I began to hear phrases from my parents like, “You’ll have to wait and see,” and “We’ll see, perhaps next year,” in response to my requests. Initially, I really believed my wish, whatever it was, eventually would be revisited and ultimately granted, but over time I came to realize that a “We’ll see” was actually the end of the road.

After perhaps a year of this I stopped asking, and concentrated my efforts on making do. It actually became fun to discover what one really didn’t need, or how to settle for a substitute. I had an air rifle that had no trigger, and in any case did not compress the air to shoot the pellet because the piston was worn. But in possessing it, I felt more fortunate than the kid who only had a home-made bow and arrow. The strings of my tennis racquet were so slack it would have made a good fishing net.

Our favorite winter pastimes, in the harsh UK winters that prevailed in the forties, were tobogganing and ice skating. Some kids had elegant, four-seater toboggans that had steerable runners and went like the wind. These had been purchased before the War began, but the rest of us had only clunky, home made versions in a variety of styles that were steered by dragging one foot or the other in the snow.

My ice skates were probably of late 19th century vintage, given to me by a neighbor who was in his seventies and who had been an accomplished figure skater. They had a shaped beech-wood platform with a steel blade inserted in a groove. They strapped onto regular boots, an arrangement that didn’t allow for any fancy footwork, but was good for figures of eight, executed slowly, hands behind ones back. Many an old print or engraving would illustrate what I mean.

The non-availability or shortage of commodities didn’t end with the cessation of the war. Rationing continued long after, and it was a number of years before manufacturers were able to convert from strategic materials to luxuries. By that time, many of us had become inured to the situation, and any cravings we might have had were dulled. Even today, I have to go through a mental exercise to persuade myself that I really have to have something or other.

This is ironic in a time when commercialism is so strongly geared to instant gratification. As I walk the supermarket isles I see “Minute Rice,” “Instant Pudding,” “Quick Quaker Oats, “Jiffy Hollandaise,” etc., etc. Whole new sections have been added where I can buy cooked meals such as spaghetti and meatballs, chicken parmesan, and a host of different salads – this at a time when people are spending as much as $75,000 on kitchen installations! If I want to watch a movie, all I have to do is make a selection, and as long as it is on DVD it will be downloaded and delivered immediately at a slot in the kiosk.

Included in the TV channels I am able to receive are 45 music channels. So with a click of my remote I can select any style from Country and Western, to Classical, to Salsa and Meringue, to Jazz and Reggae at a whim. If that doesn’t satisfy me I could turn on my iPod, if I had one, and download 10,000 pieces of music in the blink of an eye – well almost.

My wife and I take full advantage of the on-line banking services offered by our bank. We pay bills, make direct deposits, check our account balances and the status of our credit card. In turn, the bank instantly will let us know when payments have been credited or debited, transfers made, or even credit card charges outside a limit that we set. Want a loan? A quick telephone call will send a deposit winging to your account. Need a mortgage? Well that may take a couple of days longer.

On a recent vacation in Europe I took around 250 pictures with my digital camera. Instantly I could see whether I’d had my finger over the lens, forgot to turn on the flash, or cut off my wife’s head. No more waiting two weeks to find out there was no film in the camera, or that it didn’t wind on, or the myriad other disappointments that have characterized my vacation picture taking in the past.

With all that, I wish still that I could experience the, some might say perverted, longing for things I know I can’t have. Then again, I suppose I can, in some ways. Lost youth, first romances, a long chat with my mother, and dinner with good friends no longer alive would all be high on the list.

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