As a faux conductor and engineer, the enterprise did not alway run smoothly. As my brother was fixing a track, I couldn’t resist the temptation to engage the transformer and send the trains chugging around the tracks. However, in my excitement, I didn’t realize that my brother’s hand was still on the tracks and he was shocked by the sudden jolt of electricity. “Ow! What the hell are you doing?” he yelled, as he jumped back in pain. My penance was removal from any electrical equipment and I was delegated to the mundane task of snapping together the plastic diner and signs that lined the train route.

A nod to NASA was a rocket launching car, a special edition released in the wake of the Soviet Union’s successful launch of Sputnik. As a child, I was worried about falling behind the Soviets in the race to space, and this little train offered a glimpse into a future filled with endless possibilities

I remember grinning at a later addition to our Lionel train set – a cattle car filled with plastic cows vibrating on platform, mimicking the movement of live cattle being transported across the country. “This is going to be the best train adventure yet!” I had mused, as I placed the cows carefully in the car.

As we sounded the train whistle and the locomotive chugged around the tracks, our terrier mix dog, Domino, started barking at the cattle car and shivering with excitement. Whether it was setting up intricate tracks and scenarios, or simply watching the trains chug along, there was something timeless and special about the world of Lionel trains. And as we spent the afternoon lost in the world of these tiny locomotives, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the memories and adventures that these beloved trains had given us.

It was moments like these that brought our whole family together, united by a shared love for these miniature marvels.

The events are fresh in my mind though the incident had occurred 6 decades earlier. My 6th birthday party was, by all metrics, a rousing social success. A spirited game of ‘pin the tail on the donkey’, engaging conversation about the latest “Romper Room” TV episodes and gourmet entrees of Nathan’s hot dogs gave way to a highly anticipated dessert. A platter of Hostess Twinkies were brought out  and distributed by my mom to the sugar craving denizens of North Queens, N.Y. A shadowy arm crossed my plate and and as fast as you could say “Captain Kangaroo,” my Twinkie was snatched by the pig-tailed girl who hastily ran through the door with her purloined goods and back to her lair one block away. New York City penal codes, my mom explained to my inconsolable self, did not apply to minors stealing baked goods. From that moment on, I never took pastries for granted. Was there something out there that could replace that lost Twinkie? 

New York City was the crucible for inspired bakeries. The 19th Germans were more interested in wars (Austro-Prussian War , Franco-Prussian War) than dessert cuisine, encouraging  German bakers to bring their flour, butter, eggs and sugar to the land of opportunity across the Atlantic. The Glasers, a Bavarian family, established a bakery in Yorkville, New York City and in 1904 invented the black and white cookie. Frosting, atop a cake dough base, it became a metaphor for racial equality (Seinfeld Black and White Cookie) as well as an iconic cookie. In Stuttgart Germany, an emigre, William Entenmann relocated to Brooklyn, N.Y. and peddled baked goods starting in 1898 to the hungry borough. His children expanded the product line and produced the near perfect N.Y. Style Crumbcake, enjoyed by proletariat and luminaries such as  Frank Sinatra who had the cake delivered weekly to his abode. The same year as William Entenmann was delivering his horse carriage delivered sweetness, a German couple, Catherine and George Ebinger started their version of cakes and pastries in South Brooklyn. My paternal grandmother, Celia, always had an Ebinger’s 7 layered chocolate cake prominently displayed in the kitchen.

The excellence of the bakeries in Brooklyn and Manhattan spilled out to Queens by the 1960’s. Storks, a German Bakery in Whitestone, was replete with their own version of buttery-inspired petit fours, black and whites and crumb cakes. Adventurer’s Inn, an amusement park near LaGuardia Airport, had an in house bakery that deconstructed the black and white cookie and re-engineered v. 2.0: a double-decker sandwich with a 2nd base cookie layered with thick fudge in the middle.

As my dessert satisfaction score and body mass index (BMI) rose in tandem, I felt some trepidation relocating to Los Angeles to further my education. Was this going to be baked goods hell or a hidden cookie oasis? I promptly found Canter’s Deli in L.A. and scored a West Coast black and white. Entenmann’s fortuitously expanded their crumb cake empire to the West Coast in the ‘70s and introduced the left coast to the wonders of their cookies and cakes. Ramen noodles and crumb cake; Mac and Cheese and black and whites; chef boyardee ravioli and Entenmann chocolate chip cookies: these were the student Michelin 4 star meals that resonated.

All things must pass, proclaimed George Harrison, and so did this pastry paradise. Cholesterol consciousness, living longer and the eating healthy mafia chipped away at my treasured baked goods. Ebinger’s went bankrupt, Glaser’s of Yorkville closed after a century of business and Entemann’s was sold and resold and nearly expunged all of their crumb cake production. Bakeries were shuttered and replaced by juice bars and  Acacia bowl outlets. Even the venerable Twinkie was re-engineered to include synthetic compounds that had little taste resemblance to earlier Twinkie generations. A dark age of baked goods was a foot. 

With a sullen demeanor, I capped off a recent lunch with apple slices and a bran muffin and set out to walk off some calories around Manhattan. Past the healthy bowl places and the passion fruit bars I went until I came across a serpentine line stretching multiple blocks down 3rd Avenue. “A new cookie store just opened” opined a prospective customer who was  at least 45 minutes from being served. Crumbl, a cookie emporium based in Utah was opening up their first store in New York City. Sullen looks turned to smiles as I contemplated the possible resurgence of the New York baked goods scene. Twinkies may come and go, I mused,  but the circle of spice arcs toward sweetness.  

In 2017 the Hall ceased operation and a new museum was to take its place. Inspired by the summer Comic Con Convention, its mission was to educate and entertain the public with comic and popular art forms. It vision, summarized on the website:

• Thrive as a world-class attraction and gateway to popular art, culture, and life-long learning for San Diego residents and visiting tourists.
• Serve as a pop culture focal point, enhancing the ways San Diego celebrates its unique place in the popular culture landscape.
• Enhance the economic strength of the community.
• Become a sustainable model for equitable and environmentally-sound community service through our practices and offerings.

The hard opening of the museum on July 1st featured the Marvel Universe, Spiderman and all his glories and Ernest Hemingway in comics. I strolled up to the entrance and asked a spokesperson about the details of the Superman exhibit. “Oh we don’t have a Superman exhibit yet,” she said. “But we are in negotiations with DC Comics.” “How could this be?“, I mused as the 12 year old inside of me tried to cope with this disappointment. My formative years were shaped by Action and Superman Comics. I learned about inflation (10 cents/copy in 1960, 12 cents a few years later), toxicology (green, gold and red kryptonite), journalism (The Daily Planet and its staff) and infatuation (I had a crush on Linda Lee Danvers, Supergirl’s alias). 

I had pressing 21st century questions for the Superman franchise: How had climate change affected the Fortress of Solitude in the Arctic? Did the Daily Planet survive and gain a digital footprint? Superman is faster than a locomotive but is he faster than a Saturn Rocket?

I respect all of the Gen Xers, Millennials and pre-baby boomers who revere Marvel and will flock to San Diego in the coming days to attend Comic Con and its new museum. But I implore all  baby boomers and supporters to take action. The “Man of Steel” who stands for “Truth, Justice and the American Way” is needed now more than ever.

Fast forward to New Years Eve, 2000 as I anxiously turned on the TV to watch the Times Square Ball drop to usher in the new millennium. Car commercials came on, all terrestrial vehicles, United Airlines ads promising low fares to Europe at subsonic speed and no robots in sight in my Southern California home. How could Joel, my upstairs neighbor, be so wrong?  A case of media distortion syndrome, baby boomer edition, no doubt. 

Social media is replete with opinions and conspiracies that pass as truth and shape our world today.  My generation, spared from the early influence of the internet, was a product of broadcast television. The three networks (CBS, ABC and NBC) and local New York City stations, WNEW channel 5 and WPIX, channel 11, raised us through the ‘50s and 60’s and shaped our proclivities, biases and sense of reality. Through the writer’s scripts, we were raised on the magical, the ingenuity of the white male, the geological time slips, bigotry-lite, and anthropomorphisms. Here is a sampling of television education gone wrong:

1. The Magical
   1. Bewitched: A corporate advertising executive who marries a witch that can twitch her nose and change reality.
   2. I Dream of Jeannie: An astronaut finds a magic lamp and releases an attractive genie who alters reality and discombobulates authority.
   3. The Flying Nun: Self explanatory.
2. Ingenuity and Family Glue: The White Male
   1. Family Affair: A wealthy, N.Y.  bachelor engineer becomes surrogate father to two prepubescent 6 year olds and a female teenager, assisted by his English valet. No problem!
   2. Bachelor Father: Bachelor attorney adopts his adolescent niece and live happily ever after. 
   3. Sky King: Rancher and aviator raises his niece and extricates her from all sorts of perils.
   4. My Three Sons: Widowed engineer raises three sons with the help of his father-in-law and later invites his daughter-in-law to live with the extended family. No problem!

1. Geological Mayhem
   1. The Flintstones: Stone age family lives in Bedrock with their pet sauropod dinosaur. Humans: Pleistocene epoch, Dinosaurs: died in Late Cretaceous: 65 million year gap; a rounding error to the networks.
   2. The Jetsons: Flying cars, humanized robots and push button jobs but no physicists consulting on the show..
2. Anthropomorphisms
   1. Mister Ed: A debonair horse who only talks to his owner and has an egotistical streak.
   2. The People’s Choice: Politician’s basset hound makes wise cracks about the hi jinx experienced by his owner.
   3. My Mother the Car: Self Explanatory.
3. Bigotry-Lite
   1. The Real McCoys: An Appalachian grandfather moves with his grandson, and his family to cast aspersions on California natives. Starring  Walter Brennan, a John Birch Society member and avowed racist. 
   2. All in the Family: A Queens cabdriver, Archie
      Bunker, spins prejudice at home but his persona softened by his work ethic and his financial and housing support of his liberal son-in-law.
   3. The Beverly Hillbillies: Appalachian family moves to California where rich, wealthy Californians belittle the rural immigrants. A mirror image of The Real McCoys.

What we digested from those 3 networks and local feeds was entertainment to some and truth and dogma to others. Twitch your nose, rub a lamp, consult your single male engineer/attorney about child rearing or converse with your horse or your loquacious canine and prepare for a blissful life.  As to our current world, with each more outrageous conspiracy theory espoused on cable and social media, the Senate ready to discuss disenfranchisement of  millions of voters I can only shake my head and utter the insightful and comforting words of an equine star of yesteryear, “Oh Wilbur.”