Since I was a kid, I was fascinated by the 1939 New York World’s Fair, starting after I attended the 1964 Fair as an 11-year-old. Seeing pictures and family souvenirs of the earlier fair, I was bummed that it seemed way cooler than the plastique of the current one. It was the first time I fully realized that what was past was past and I’d never be able to experience the 1930s first hand. My increasing interest in the music of the Swing Era only increased those feelings of sepia-toned attraction for what had been. In later years, books and documentaries have helped me to put those past times into sharper focus, what with color home movies showing up – was everyone shooting in Kodachrome in 1939? And yet, the increasing immediacy of these images has convinced me that I would likely be dissatisfied if I could wander back to 1939. Things have been happening so fast in recent years that yesterday’s future seems like something of a drag. Would I really enjoy the General Motors Futurama’s wrong-headed vision of the world in 1960? Or the Wonder Bread exhibit? Or those ubiquitous baby incubators that seemed to appear at every Fair? Going to the Apple store on 5th Avenue gives me today’s future and I’m liking it.