Spielberg's Saucy '60s. (Commentary).

THE thing I remember most about the '60s is color. Also, planes--specifically the Boeing 707. And James Bond. And pretty blondes with their hair piled high. And big brassy movie music from Henry Mancini.

In other words, I was a sucker for Steven Spielberg's "Catch Me if You Can," not so much for its tale of a peripatetic con man played by Leonardo DiCaprio, but for how well it told of the days when credit cards were paper and pay phones actually worked. It was a time when everyone wanted to be sophisticated and yet, looking back, it all seemed so innocent.

As you get older, and crabbier, it's natural to consider your youth as the good old days (even at the risk of major eye rolling by your kids whose idea of the good old days is Windows 95). The movies were more entertaining, the food fresher, the plumber more reliable, the doctor more knowledgeable--it was all so much better then.

Age has this way of conveniently removing yesteryear's less-than-wonderful stuff (as well as disregarding anything that's new and improved). Those were the years, after all, when you still had hair and didn't fall asleep before the 10 o'clock news--things had to be better!

But they only seemed better. The '60s were about 007 and miniskirts and "The Dick Van Dyke Show" but they were also about political assassinations and 47,000 lives lost in Vietnam and pervading sexism and racism that now seems almost otherworldly (until a guy like Trent Lot dredges it up for a few news cycles). The movies appear better because we can only remember the good ones, and while doctors still made house calls they couldn't even begin to tackle cancer or AIDS. As for fresh-tasting food, today's store-bought tomatoes admittedly leave something to be desired, but have we already forgotten about '60s-era staples like TV dinners and cream of mushroom soup?

Yes, plumbers are probably not as reliable--ditto for contractors, painters and electricians--but these days there's a Home Depot in almost every neighborhood. Back in the '60s, who would have imagined a place like Costco, where you could load up on everything from televisions to steaks--and at cut-rate costs? And 40 years ago, would anyone have guessed stores being open late at night and all day on Sunday?

Anyone who bemoans the current state of television must have forgotten when sets were still unreliable (hence all those TV repairmen), color was still a big deal (remember the NBC peacock heralding an upcoming show in color?) and most cities had, at best, a half-dozen channels. Old fogies who yearn for the old days might first consider the prospect of no CNN, no "Sopranos," no DVDs or VCRs--and snowy reception to boot.

Closer to home, the paper you are now reading would be impossible to publish in the '60s. That was a good 30 years before computer systems allowed small publications like the Business Journal to prepare pages on a screen and then electronically send files to an off-site printer. If a story breaks an hour or two before deadline, reporters can search vast databases for background information, a photographer can shoot a digital picture, and our production department can redesign the page--all in time to make it into the next issue.

The problem with people who long for the past is that they tend to live in the past. At times, it's a tempting prospect--what with terrorism, gang violence, pollution, congestion, etc.--but the scorecard is undeniable: We are better off now, lots better, no matter how appealing Hollywood tries to make those long-ago days.

Mark Lacter is editor of the Business Journal.