Back to the Future

By the twenty-first century, predicted civil engineer John Elfreth Watkins, there will be no more mosquitoes, flies or roaches, and automobiles will cost less than horses. Riding home from a day with the lovely Madelyn Simone, I caught a bit of a NPR piece that mentioned Watkin’s prophetic words, published in the Ladies Home Journal in 1900.

What will our world be like in the future? Growing up in a world that welcomed the Jetsons into my home every Saturday morning, predictive images of the future were a standard 1960s childhood experience. How close will George Jetson’s lifestyle be to the year 2062, the setting of the cartoon series? Inquiring minds want to know.

As Watkins’ article reminds us, the attempt to foresee the future did not start with George and Jane Jetson. Watkins had successful visions on his list in 1900, including color photography, mobile phones, television, hot house vegetables, and an increase in height among Americans. We may not have strawberries as large as apples, but given the vast technological changes since 1900, he did quite well.

In 1910, the French artist Villemard drew upon futurist ideas of his decade to create a series of images of schools using audio books, mail being sent by dictating a letter into loudspeaker, and newspapers being listened to each morning. Villemard’s postcards, which may have been included as a premium with food purchases, also sketched some airborne contraptions, including flying firefighters and a fly-through restaurant. Move over, McDonalds.

Writing for the Greenville, Mississippi’s Delta Democrat-Times in the early 1950s, Henry Nicholas polled intellectuals from many disciplines to see what their predictions of the future might be. Nicholas’ conclusions were broader than Villemard’s, but his experts were sure that space travel would be integrated into contemporary life in the twenty-first century, and dreamed of a world with less disease and the elimination of world wars. Nicholas also suggested that by the year 2000, humans would have mastered the planet, particularly in terms of energy and natural resources, and that cheap, harmless birth control methods could be added to the diet “as one saw fit,” thus regulating the sizes of families and nations. 

I wonder if the creators of the Jetsons read Nicholas’ article, for they agreed with at least one of his conclusions, that the people of the twenty-first century would work shorter hours and have much more leisure time. George Jetson only worked two days a week, and other than shopping at Mooning Dales, I’m not sure what Jane did, since the robot-maid Rosie did whatever housework got done. Not quite so in today’s world.

I’ll probably be humming the Jetson’s theme song and chuckling over their comedic exploits the rest of the day, but Nicholas’ predictions keep tugging at me. I look at the schedules and stresses facing young families and wish they had sense of leisure, of rest. How we all long for the elimination of cancer, AIDS, heart disease, and chronic illnesses and other challenges that make life so difficult for those we love. And while I give thanks for a lifetime that has not seen a world war, I often pray the prayer of John Oxenham: “Peace in our time, O Lord, to all the people, peace.” The price of unresolved conflict, whether in Syria, the South Sudan, or on the streets and playgrounds of our own community, are still too high.

In the difficult days after World War II, words attributed to German theologian Martin Luther (although likely not his) were often repeated, “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.” Without the fortune-teller’s crystal ball, we can’t accurately predict the future, and the tenets of faith warn against any demand to control it. Yet we can plant our own apple trees so that success in medical research and treatment, a safe and healthy environment, and “peace in our times” can be harvested in future generations. Forget the gigantic strawberries, space travel and fly-through fast food – safety, well-being and peace describe the world I envision for my grandchildren and yours. Calling Johnny Appleseed . . .