A two-minute episode I witnessed at a Safeway in midtown Baltimore in July has stuck with me as Election Day approaches. I was on a long line—the supermarket never has more than two cashiers working; management claims no one wants the job—when a young man calmly loaded his arms with several packages of paper towels, and power-walked to the exit. The two security guards at the entrance made a half-hearted pass at apprehending the thief, but he got away. A month later all sorts of items—ointments, Tide, Red Bull, shaving cream, lipstick, condoms, combs, sunscreen and the like—were “paywalled” behind lock and key, just like CVS, necessitating customers to find a roaming employee to open the case.
It’s said that violent crime is down in America today, and that could be true, but who can believe anything any local (or federal) government claims in a press release, but that isn’t the case with minor larceny. As is usually ramrodded home in presidential elections, at least by the “out” party, the economy’s the number one issue for voters. Some may favor the current administration’s doling out another $700 billion to Ukraine, some are horrified (at least fleetingly) by videos of horrific death in the Middle East, but the rising prices of potato chips, apples and coffee—not to mention the locked-up tube of dandruff shampoo—is what really lights the fire of consumers, especially those on fixed incomes or younger middle-class men and women.
Democratic media mouthpieces point to obscure statistics, the record-setting financial markets, and attempt to shame those who complain about the economy. I’ve seen worse economic conditions, and blaming just Democrats is folly (aside from Biden’s crazy and ineffectual “infrastructure" bill, recessions and slowdowns are non-partisan), but it’s that gut-level anger that drives voters, since they can’t eat a DJIA table.
Then again, as I wrote last week, we have a political scramble, where what matters to those who choose to vote—inflation, abortion, anti-Semitism, higher taxes, the appalling and incomprehensible statements of Kamala, Trump’s trademark boorishness, cities pockmarked by shuttered retail establishments, a broken transportation system—can be tossed in a spinning lottery globe and the winner is… no one knows.
Confusion over this modern world cuts against demographics, whether it’s adolescents tethered to electronic devices, young adults unable to find affordable housing or senior citizens, like me, pissed off about how difficult once-routine transactions are. Smart this, smart that, when I can’t figure out how to turn off the dishwasher when a bell rings, or am stymied on an Uber ride getting in and out the car, I feel lucky to make it to the safety of my home. Some Benign Nostalgia Dreamers (sometime for an era before they were born) routinely post a picture on social media from various decades (usually the 1970s, for reasons I can’t decipher) with the caption “Simpler times.” There’s a degree of truth in that sentiment—superior public schools, kids, like me, playing touch football after school with neighbors, a USPS that wasn’t dysfunctional, airplanes that took off on time—but the advances in medical technology alone in the succeeding decades are astounding. My parents, who died prematurely, would likely have lived many more years if today’s treatments in heart troubles and semi-aggressive cancer were an option.
I look at the picture above—my Uncle Joe, grandfather, grandmother, Uncle Pete and my mom—taken in the earlier part of the 20th century, and it’s a marvel. The attire is swell, Joe wearing a necktie along with a cap and knee socks, Mom in a frilly dress, my grandparents in formal (but probably everyday) clothes, and in some ways it is “simpler.” But I’d guess that jalopy took forever to get from the Bronx to Northport, Long Island, and they couldn’t watch ballgames on TV, since it wasn’t available yet for, as politicians say, “ordinary folks.” It’s not giving away the year by saying that the Great Depression was in full swing, or that the political world, in America and abroad, was erupting one event at a time. The Second World War wasn’t likely on my relatives’ mind, but it came soon enough. Again, on social media, I see doomsayers to the left and right of me, claiming that WWIII is about to erupt, and in some cases I believe that’s wishful thinking. On that front, I haven’t a clue, and will save my agitation for hackers who try to infiltrate my bank account.
Take a look at these clues to figure out the year: The Swedish Handball Federation is established; Nicholas Longworth is Speaker of the House; at Josef von Sternberg's request, Marlene Dietrich debuts in America with Morocco rather than The Blue Angel; the London Naval Treaty is signed by the U.S., UK and Japan; Hostess Twinkies are invented; 3M introduces Scotch Tape; Jean Harlow stars in Hell’s Angels; Tom Wolfe is born and William Howard Taft dies; Upton Sinclair’s Mental Radio and Evelyn Waugh’s Vile Bodies are published; and Son House’s “Clarksdale Moan” is a big hit.
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023