When InfoComm was complete, I joined my family for a few days of R&R down the road at Walt Disney World, where I took the opportunity to say goodbye to an old friend at the Magic Kingdom.
Last year, when I heard rumors an attraction could be on the chopping block, I took my wife and teen daughter to explore "Tom Sawyer Island" with me. Back in the day, this was a premier attraction. It started with a raft ride over to the island. From there, you were set free to explore caves, trails, bridges, and more.
My family was not impressed, and I suppose I can't blame them. It was time spent away from more modern attractions to watch me grin like an idiot while surveying the recreated blacksmith area of a frontier fort.
So, this time, I queued up solo for the first motorized log raft of the day over to "Tom Sawyer Island," which closed permanently less than a month later on July 7. What I noticed was that the grownups outnumbered the kids. By a lot. I also noticed the raft was not full. By a lot.
Methinks I see the problem. Most kids today aren't begging their parents to take them to a walkaround area modeled after the stories of a fictional Midwestern boy whose adventures took place before the Civil War, particularly when they are a few steps away from roller coasters, pirate adventures, and a mansion that's reportedly home to 999 ghosts (and has air conditioning).
I spent about 20 minutes experiencing the self-guided attraction one last time. I explored the caves, stepped heavily on the suspension bridge to make it bounce (as is right and proper), made my escape out of Fort Langhorn via the secret tunnel, and boarded the return raft in time to meet my family for lunch back in the 21st century.
Am I happy that "Tom Sawyer Island" is gone? Absolutely not. Hey, I'm still stewing about Universal Studios replacing "Back to the Future: The Ride" with "The Simpsons Ride" more than 15 years ago. But things change—and not just in theme parks.
I still own a record player and dozens of albums from my younger years, along with a box of CDs (I never unpacked it when we moved almost a decade ago). Yet, despite my incontrovertible attachment to physical media, I almost always reach for my phone when I want to hear music.
During my early production days, I'd walk around in the South Florida heat and humidity with a cumbersome Sony U-Matic 3/4-inch portable videocassette recorder, snuggled into its Porta-Brace case and hanging off my shoulder. When the industry moved away from videotape to solid-state recording, my lower back didn't exactly lament the technological leap. And I certainly don't want to go shoot some B-roll with that setup again just for old times' sake.
Technology rarely stands still, especially in our business. While there's certainly room for nostalgia in our lives, you can't really live there or work there, at least not efficiently. A friend of mine still waxes poetic about Palm Desktop for the Palm smartphone. In fact, he kept using the software long after he had upgraded his phone. He could probably still use it, but the hassle of trying to integrate software that was discontinued in 2010 into a modern OS wasn't worth the effort.
[Editorial: The 'Old Days' Really Weren't That Long Ago]
How much outdated gear have you kept? In my office closet, there's a Petrol production backpack full of production accessories, which is stored next to several additional equipment bins. Between them, I have lights, mics, headsets, tripods, prompting solutions, adapters, old smartphones, and way too many cables. Most of it has been replaced by newer solutions—and those will likely be replaced within 5-10 years, too.
I guess it's time to sort through my bins and say goodbye at my local recycling center. But maybe next year. It's a little too soon since my last escape from Fort Langhorn.
