...to Remember Boom Boxes (Part I)

In the 1980s, I spent a lot of time on commuter trains in the greater New York metropolitan area. My journey to work began on the first of two PATH trains in New Jersey, the second of which dropped me off in the basement of the now-destroyed World Trade Center. From there I caught the subway to mid-town Manhattan to begin my workday 90 minutes after leaving my home in Harrison, NJ. All of this time on public transportation gave me ample opportunity to observe and ponder many social phenomena and survival mechanisms in tightly crammed public spaces.

Most people on these long, uncomfortable commutes tried to make themselves as invisible and small as possible in order to afford at least the illusion that they might enjoy some personal space, if only an inch or two. Then there were the those who would not be ignored.

In those days, long before Steven Jobs and his creative geniuses could dream of the iPod, there was the boom box. Although it served the same function as the iPod, the boom box was the total antithesis of the iPod in every aspect except in its ability to provide musical entertainment away from the home stereo. It was heavy; it had no easy means of transportation, maybe a handle; it's musical selections could be customized only by adjusting a radio station or changing a cassette tape (remember those?!). And yet, they were popular. Especially popular among subway-riding, sidewalk-walking urban youth, boom boxes proclaimed to the world not only the owner's musical taste but something much more existential. Seeing so many of these nomadic DJs, I couldn't help but notice the guys with the swaggiest swagger, the struttiest strut were the ones hoisting the bulkiest boom boxes. On any given day, I might encounter half a dozen young men hauling around boom boxes that looked like control panels from Cape Canaveral. Hey guys, are we guiding the Space Shuttle into orbit or listening to music?

The Italian Mama thinks neither.