I remember an episode of Bewitched where Benjamin Franklin was accidentally conjured up by wacky Aunt Clara. Ben was naturally perplexed by “rock” music coming from the small compartment in the vehicle that was propelled without the aid of horses (the horses were under the hood). Of course, hilarity ensued and was concluded with Larry believing it was all part of a brilliant ad campaign executed by Darrin.

In my day-to-day routine, I occasionally wonder, “If Benjamin Franklin was confused and amazed by 1960’s America, what would he make of the new millennium?” People talk to each other through tiny, glowing, plastic contraptions no larger than a buckle on his shoe. Hearts and other major organs can be replaced. Music is stored on slim, silvery discs. Libraries can be stored in chips. Computers generate characters and scenery for movies. We drink sugary liquids, the color if which is hard to find in nature. The applesauce I just bought at Aldi won’t expire until December 2005.

I almost wish I had an Aunt Clara who could pluck Congressman Franklin from the past and plop him onto my futon. I could show him some DVDs. I think he’d like Minority Report. I could introduce him to deodorant (probably one of the first items of business). We could munch on microwave popcorn and sip some Kool-Aid while we surfed the internet. I would have to shield him from photographs of women baring their knees and shoulders or he might go puritanically nuts. Or worse he’d start drooling uncontrollably (you know how our politicians are). After a wild day of showing him what has become of America, I’d pat him on the back, hand him the WWBT T-shirt we would have made with my ink-jet printer, and send him back to the 1700s.