This call is personal: If I could call my 15-year-old self about plagues, perseverance and progress

Hi Howard, First a bit of housekeeping: This call may be monitored and recorded for record-keeping, training and quality-assurance purposes. I know it’s a formal way to begin a long overdue conversation but it’s how things are done today. On this your 15th birthday, July 22, 1960, I wish you a wonderful day. Like many birthdays before and to follow, summer birthdays usually find you away from your family in some idyllic, over-supervised camping environment somewhere in the wilds of Northern Ontario. No expense is spared for you to live in bare-boned squalor, an antiquated hovel without indoor plumbing. The wash-house is only surpassed in understated grandeur by the congregate gathering place for nutrition and sustenance aptly known as the mess hall. One camp mess hall served not only as a feeding station for the starving masses, but as a pulpit for socialist-inspired diatribes and songs of freedom and anarchy directed at easily impressionable youth. Read: Study identifies virulent HIV variant unrecognized for years This summer, your parents have taken camping to a whole new level and you’re now at a Camp for Fine Arts, known as Manitouwabing. You’ve chosen a blended program of “specialties,” majoring in drama with minors in waterfront and golf, quite the eclectic itinerary. The golf pro doubles as your gym teacher at Forest Hill Collegiate. You chose wisely and enrolled in drama. The “faculty” of drama includes Leon Major and Raymond Lawlor and they’ll guide your thespian aspirations as male leads in Liliom and The Mad Woman of Chaillot. Then, you’ll quietly exit stage right. So much for the thrill of the greasepaint. Your first year in high school underwhelmed. At 14, your rookie year, you were one of the youngest in class and definitely one of the smallest. Hormones were percolating but hadn’t yet arrived at their target organs. A class picture from 10R testifies to the developmental disparities seen in your cohort. Your report card shows a profound deficiency in History, with a Christmas exam mark of 38. Mr. Langford wasn’t impressed and neither were your parents. By year’s end, a pass was surprisingly salvaged, culminating in a resounding 69.9% average. History clearly “teaches us not.” Perspective, from my unique vantage point in time, is a necessary digression. Case in point, I’m calling you today from my iPhone. It’s appropriately referred to as a smartphone, “a portable device that combines mobile telephone and computing functions into one unit.” It will be introduced in June 2007 and is something that would make Buck Rogers roll over in his spaceship. There will be untold advancements to follow in technology, education, business, science and medicine over the next decades. Your world will unfold, if it doesn’t explode, as you explore the vast and unlimited boundaries of the future. If I told you now what the ‘70s. ‘80s and beyond have on the agenda, you’d consider it heresy. I won’t divest you of your dreams. Read: Poll: How much do you charge to fill in insurance forms? There are some events I feel comfortable sharing, but you must promise not to reveal the secrets I’m about to unload. JFK will visit Dallas on 22/11/63. He will never get to Camelot. MLK’s “dream” will become America’s nightmare. The U.S. will enter the Vietnam War in February 1961 and exit, with a helicopter-assisted whimper, in May 1975. Neil Sedaka sings “Breaking up is hard to do” in 1960 and The Beatles make it look easy in 1974. Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris excite the baseball world in 1961 as the Yankee teammates slug it out for the home run championship. Maris will win the battle with 61 in ‘61, Mantle will ultimately lose his to liver cancer in ‘95. Read: Free passes to Canada's national parks are good medicine Norman Bates will become a motel proprietor and “Psycho” will enter our vocabulary, and not in a good way. Mankind will take a “giant leap” in 1969 but I’ll keep the venue a secret for now. What is the Sea of Tranquility, Alex? “The Golden Age of Television” will come to an abrupt end, yielding to the likes of Gilligan’s Island, Get Smart, Hogan’s Heroes, Star Trek, The Twilight Zone, Mission:Impossible, The Fugitive and the inimitable Mr. Ed. Heady stuff? You ain’t seen nothin yet. Home computers will change your life, but you’ll have to wait until 1977. I loved my Commodore 64. They will intrude and screw with you for the rest of your life. Wait till you meet Alexa and Siri. Wifi will be your lifeblood. Oh, and there will be laptops and tablets and, get this, you’ll even wear tiny computers on your wrist. Don’t get me started on artificial intelligence. Next year, you’ll get your driver’s licence. If you think that the ‘61 XKE, ‘63 Sting Ray, ‘64 GTO, ‘65 Mustang are boss, just you wait. Today, the future is electric and autonomous, seriously! Look Ma, no hands and, no gas! Meat, potatoes and fried chicken will undergo a major transformation as culinary expression and gastronomic tastes evolve. Foods will become unrecognizable and unpronounceable. International cuisines will become mainstream. Restaurants will open and close like revolving doors at the whim of a discerning and fickle foodie public. You’ll be able to buy $30 burgers, $15 mocha, non-fat, frappuccino, double espresso, latte coffees and craft beer in tall cans with steep prices. You’ll need a raise in your allowance. Oh, and there will be plagues, lots of them, not the bubonic kind, but close. SARS, Swine Flu, Ebola, HIV-AIDS and the annual, and variable strains of Influenza. In March of 2020, a perpetual pandemic of exquisite virulence will precipitate from China, known as Sars-Cov-2, aka COVID-19. It will disrupt the entire world. Buzz words to remember: unprecedented, tsunami N95, social and physical distancing, Purell and, who could forget, Fauci. You might want to focus your future academic studies on epidemiology and infectious disease. These will become growth industries. And, just in case you’re wondering, the Leafs will win three consecutive Stanley Cups starting with the ‘61-62 season, one more in ‘66-67. And, sadly, that’s all she wrote. There will be famine in the land and it will last for more than 50 years. I really should have prefaced these prognostications with a spoiler alert, but as you’ll see over time, I’ve left out a lot of salient details. The next 60 years will be a crazy ride. There will be decades of turbulent and perilous extremes ahead, a veritable rollercoaster of discoveries, catastrophes, triumphs and failures. And you will observe and absorb all of this in real time on cable news channels and on your pocket device. The information era will be transformative. It’s what you will do with the information that can change the course of history, for you and the world around you. The only barriers are the self-imposed variety, the perceived and artificial ones you yield to. You will overcome. If you asked for my worldly and completely objective advice, it would go something like this: Set realistic goals but always exceed them. Failure is only a momentary lapse in the pursuit of dreams. Get over it! Resilience is a learned quality, a vital sign that allows you to adapt to and withstand life’s adversities. Family is and always will be the epicentre of your world. Today’s friendships can last forever if you nurture and cultivate them. Their importance will become more important with each passing year. Life decisions are yours to make. Listen to wise counsel and advice, seek guidance and direction, but remember, ultimately, it is you who must cast the final vote, not those who would hold proxy on your future. When you receive the offer of being fixed up on a blind date with a Winnipeg nurse eleven years from now, don’t refuse, and for God’s sake, marry her! Go forth and multiply! Your gifts to the world are your children. They are your everything. I see grandchildren in your future. There’s another call coming in. Sorry to have to cut this short but your father is on the line and he’s calling “long distance.” I have to take this call. Happy birthday, Chat again soon, or if it’s easier, just send me a postcard. Howard

This call is personal: If I could call my 15-year-old self about plagues, perseverance and progress

Register for free access or login.

More Blog Posts in This Series

Doing time: Hallway medicine is out of hand

Senescence

The patient doctor: Leaving my MRI distraction playlist behind

Blog Author

HOWARD GOLDSTEIN