It was my portal to entertainment freedom as a child.
It was a small, black-and-white television that I was allowed to have in my room.
During those summer days when I had had enough of the heat, I could turn on the window air conditioning unit precariously balanced in my bedroom window and watch whatever I wanted.
Well, almost anything. I could watch anything on the handful of channels the television’s rabbit ears antenna picked up, which typically meant educational programming on PBS, soap operas or random westerns.
Maybe I could get something else if I fiddled with the tin foil wrapped around the rabbit ears to increase their reception, but usually I ended up watching shows like “Sesame Street,” “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood,” “Reading Rainbow” or “Bonanza.”
Not “Gunsmoke,” though. The “Bonanza” theme song was superior, so that is where my loyalties were.
Now, though, I live in a world awash with entertainment options, and I’m beginning to think I don’t like it.
Sure, that black-and-white television probably had a screen smaller than a typical tablet computer of today, but it was simpler.
If I couldn’t find something I wanted to watch, I got up from my spot on the floor and snapped it off. Then I picked up a book, went back outside, or pulled out my “G.I. Joe” action figures and got creative.
It’s almost impossible to be bored now.
If one streaming service doesn’t have any programming I’m interested in watching, I can just try a different one.
That’s problematic too. Choosing what to watch is nearly impossible at times. The array of choices triggers decision paralysis, which is, according to research published in European Psychiatry, “the inability to make decisions due to overwhelming options or uncertainty.”
I never faced such an issue with that little television of my youth.
Now, I don’t want to return to black-and-white screens or even jettison the technology we have now, but it does make me nostalgic for simpler times that were more analog than digital.
Apparently, I’m not alone.
Various news outlets, including AARP, have reported that cassette tapes and tape decks to play them are back. According to Billboard, “From 2015 to 2022, the little tape that could saw a 443% increase in U.S. sales.”
Likewise, vinyl records and turntables have once again become a normal mode of music listening.
Writing for Clash Magazine, Elliot Hollamby argued that physical media, instead of streaming, “asks you to stop. To choose. It introduces ritual, friction, and consequence – not as limitations, but as meaning.”
It’s a physical relationship. It’s an analog existence.
It’s not just in the realm of music, though.
Fashion trends are harkening back to the 1990s. Even body glitter and stickers are reappearing, according to an April 21 report from Glamour.
And don’t forget television shows and movies. Why else would “Baywatch” be getting a reboot?
Writing for Colorado College’s student newspaper, The Catalyst, reporter Grace Bean suggested social media users are burned out by constant content consumption shoved down their throats by algorithms.
People of all ages are seeking simplicity, comfort and some semblance of control.
What’s old is new. Vintage is in, and I’m here for it.
It’s all about nostalgia, whether for the 1990s or other times from the past.
Of course, I’m not just stuck in the 1990s, though I have fond memories of the music and television shows of that time. I’m also nostalgic for the perceived freedom of the 1960s and 1970s, and I’m fairly confident I would have been a hippie.
Currently, though, I’m fascinated by the 1950s and the Atomic Age aesthetic, which heavily featured atomic particles and futuristic motifs dressed in bright colors and geometric shapes.
No matter the timeframe, nostalgia is a powerful emotion. In this day and age, as Peter Hoar wrote for The Conversation, desiring elements of the past “goes against the grain of the digital hegemony we find ourselves in.”
It’s a rebellion against the technology that pervades our lives.
So raise a Crystal Pepsi and toast nostalgia. Let’s bring back the good parts of the past while maintaining the positives of the present, dumping the negatives from all eras.
Todd R. Vogts, Ph.D., is a native of Canton, a resident of McPherson County, and a media researcher and educator. He can be contacted with questions or comments via his website at www.toddvogts.com.
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