Money, fame, and all of the trinkets and toys you can possibly want in life–and yet, none of it fills that empty feeling inside, a longing for something lost that can never be found: the perfectly crafted vision of youth. When we’re young time seems to yield to us. We play; we make mistakes; we learn. Unaware in the present that every moment is packed with rich meaning, woven into our memories like beautiful tapestries that we can gaze upon from the future. In this week’s episode, Martin Sloan, successful business man, at his wit’s end with the hustle and bustle of the world, will be granted an unusual gift: a ticket to the past, a chance to go home again. When Martin enters his old hometown, he soon realizes that very little has changed. It isn’t long before the truth starts to appear before him in the form of people from his past, including himself as a young boy. Martin desperately wants to impart a man’s wisdom to his younger self–treasure these moments, he wants to shout! But, it is Martin’s own father who will provide the wisdom to his anachronistic son. You can’t live in the past; it belongs only to those for whom it is intended in the present. With a new vision of his own present time, Martin Sloan leaves his past behind, and re-enters his world–hopefully, with a renewed spirit of hope.

“Walking distance” is directed by Robert Stevens, teleplay by Rod Serling, and  starring Gig Young as the adult Martin Sloan. There’s also a special appearance by a young man who would go on to have quite a nice career in entertainment. Maybe you’ve even heard of him: Ron Howard, playing one of the young boys in the episode. “Walking Distance” first aired on October 30th, 1959. 

According to Marc Scott Zicree in the Twilight Zone Companion, Serling talked about where he got the idea for “Walking Distance” during an interview with Kay Gardella of The New York Daily News. Serling states, “I was walking on a set at MGM when I was suddenly hit by the similarity of it to my home town. Feeling an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, it struck me that all of us have a deep longing to go back–not to our home as it is today, but as we remember it” (43). 

In Grams Jr’ Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic, he relays a bit of a broohahah that took place between Serling and Bernard Hermann. Now, this is a new name for us, but Bernard Hermann is the man responsible for much of the music that we’ve been hearing in these episodes and in the Twilight Zone opening theme. Now, the more famous theme song, do do do do, came from composer Marius Constant. But, Hermann did a wonderful job providing the score for this week’s episode and many others in the future. So, what was the problem? Serling had seen a rough cut of the episode early, and he didn’t like the music. So, he went to producer  Buck Houghton and requested that Hermann change the score. You can imagine how well that went over. It’s an interesting story–and I always try to not give too much away from Grams Jr. or Zicree so people can buy their books because they’re fantastic, but to sum the story up, after some ego massaging, Hermann agreed to rescore the episode, and we get this beautiful rendition of a man’s life in retrospect. 

Now, if you’re following along with us each week, you might think that this Twilight Zone episode is awfully close in theme to the last one: the 16 Millimeter shrine. On the surface, both deal with a kind of longing for the past. However, both are vastly different in purpose and conclusion. Barbara Jean gets her wish and is completely lost to the real world. Our man Martin Sloan, however, is like the rest of us. He is going to have to process the past and find a way to move forward. In this teleplay, Serling is, yet again, proving himself to be a man who understands the nuances of human psychology. Clearly, Martin is quite a successful man, but what he wants more than anything is a return to a time when meaning isn’t created by sales figures and handshakes, but with smiles, laughter, and the adventure that comes with our preparation for adulthood. I will say that I do worry about that today with young people. They need to play; they need to fail; they need to make mistakes; they need to have a childhood so that they can become the kind of adults that we need in society. As I write this episode, I am preparing for a funeral that I have to go to for a family member. And although I’m mourning with my family in all the usual ways, there is also another part of my grief that feels strange to me, as if this person’s death somehow also signaled the end of an era in my life–or maybe it’s the beginning of another one. I can’t tell. 

This episode might very well be one of our growers, one that hits people in different ways at different stages of life. I’m 43 as a compose this sentence. Do I have moments when I want to return home–to the way things were in an idealized state of my childhood? The answer is yes. And yet, I believe I have a blessed life. I have the most amazing wife anyone could ask for; I have my health; I love my job teaching mostly freshmen how to think critically and write effectively; after our mortgage payment, my wife and I still have enough money to order a pizza now and then, which is pretty much all I ever wanted growing up. My life is beautiful, and yet, there are still those Martin Sloan moments. As I rewatched this episode, a few days before writing this, I found myself incredibly moved by the performance of Frank Overton who plays Martin’s father. His approach is interesting. It’s not unloving, but it’s distant. He’s not shocked by what has happened; he simply accepts it. He does not provide a hug; he gives guidance, which is exactly what Martin, his boy, needs in that moment. In an age where I have young men in my office starving for any male figure who will simply listen to them, I find this moment in the show to be one of my new favorites. 

Question 1: I’m going to bring into the conversation one of my favorite early American authors: Nathaniel Hawthorne. He is probably mostly known for his novel The Scarlet Letter, but another of his famous tales is a short story called “Young Goodman Brown.” In this story, Goodman Brown has to leave his wife, aptly named Faith, and head into the forest on a kind of quest. When he gets in the forest, he meets a traveler who is often referred to in serpent-like language. You can already imagine who this is or who this represents. I would like to read a little bit of the story to help set up my larger point. 

As Goodman Brown and his mysterious friend begin their journey, the conversation turns to the Brown family lineage. Goodman Brown says, "My father never went into the woods on such an errand, nor his father before him. We have been a race of honest men and good Christians, since the days of the martyrs. And shall I be the first of the name of Brown, that ever took this path and kept--"

"Such company, thou wouldst say," observed the elder person, interrupting his pause. "Well said, Goodman Brown! I have been as well acquainted with your family as with

ever a one among the Puritans; and that's no trifle to say. I helped your grandfather, the constable, when he lashed the Quaker woman so smartly through the streets of Salem. And it was I that brought your father a pitch-pine knot, kindled at my own hearth, to set fire to an Indian village, in King Philip's War. They were my good friends, both; and many a pleasant walk have we had along this path, and returned merrily after midnight. I would fain be friends with you, for their sake."

Now, this is only the first of the disturbing moments that Goodman Brown will face in the forest, and it’s one that pretty much all of us have to face at some point: the recognition that our parents are evil satanists–okay, maybe they’re not that bad, but there is something disturbing about our sudden realization that our parents, or even just people we respect greatly, are not perfect–they lie; they make mistakes; they can treat people badly at times. On that night in the forest, Goodman Brown witnesses an old woman who taught him his catechism. He also sees a respected Deacon from church, and toward the end, he finds both himself and his lovely wife, Faith, on an altar, about to be baptized into the communion of wretched souls. Here is the climactic moment as they both stand at this altar.

"Faith! Faith!" cried the husband. "Look up to Heaven, and resist the Wicked One!" Whether Faith obeyed, he knew not. Hardly had he spoken, when he found himself amid calm night and solitude, listening to a roar of the wind, which died heavily away through the forest. He staggered against the rock, and felt it chill and damp, while a hanging twig, that had been all on fire, besprinkled his cheek with the coldest dew. The next morning, young Goodman Brown came slowly into the street of Salem village, staring around him like a bewildered man. Had Goodman Brown fallen asleep in the forest, and only dreamed a wild dream of a witch-meeting?”

So, was Goodman Brown under the spell of a nightmare, or did he really just witness all of the people he respected and loved commune with the dark one? Until his dying day, Brown isn’t quite sure. But, the last line of the short story is this: “they carved no hopeful verse upon [Brown’s] tombstone; for his dying hour was gloom.” 

What most people take away from the story is the idea that Brown has lost his innocence. He has seen the world and its people for what they are: sinful, broken, and in their hearts, downright evil at times. And yet, the world persists–we go on, as if we don’t notice any of it. Now, when I’ve taught the story in college, we always talk about the loss of innocence part, but there is another aspect of this story that I want to bring up that will connect us back to “Walking Distance.” And yes, I realize that by now, if you’re still with me, we’ve walked quite a distance away from our Twilight Zone episode, but, as always, I thank you for your patience. 

We don’t often don’t discuss the gradual loss of celebration–and I mean celebration, not partying. Those are not always the same things. Celebrating the good in the world can actually help add years to our lives. Here’s some research to help cement the claim: According to research from the Journal of Public Policy & Marketing, “celebrations with three conditions -- social gathering, eating or drinking, and intentionally marking a positive life event -- will increase perceived social support. Perceived social support, according to previous research, is the belief you have a social network that will be there for you in case of future, negative life events. That belief is associated with health and well-being outcomes, including increased life-span and decreased anxiety and depression” (link).

Martin Sloan clearly achieves a great deal, but does he celebrate anything? Probably not. Part of the reason for this today is that I’m not sure we even know what to celebrate. We throw birthday parties, but why? We have anniversaries, bar mitzvahs, quinceaneras, holidays, but what is the point? It isn’t the partying; it’s the celebrating. And in order to celebrate properly, you have to reflect upon what you are most grateful for. Think about that for a long second. When was the last time you went to a party and spent a moment genuinely reflecting on why you are even there? I can promise you, there is probably no one who is more guilty of this than me. 

You have to allow yourself celebrations of wonder, and, I’m speaking just as much to myself with this next line as I am any of you out there, you have to allow others the opportunity to celebrate you. The more connected we feel in the present, the less we will look to the past for our happiness. It seems to me that Martin Sloan would benefit from a few celebrations. 

Question 2: Can we bring the past with us into the present in a healthy way, or does it always have to remain outside of the present? I actually struggled with this question somewhat–which is odd because I’m the one who proposed it. What I ultimately landed on actually connects quite a bit with our previous section on the importance of celebrations: the need for traditions and rituals. One of the reasons why I love literature–especially the old crap, as my students, and some colleagues, will sometimes remind me–is because it shows us how, in many ways, the human experience really hasn’t changed all that much. We’re trodding the same ground that others have laid down or walked before us. And that should empower us in our lives, especially in the worst of times. But, it goes even beyond that. We have family traditions as well that sometimes only go back a few years, but they’re important to us because they provide us with glimpses of times when the world seemed to slow down just enough for a small group of people to experience some joy. That’s the romantic vision of it, but let’s get real for a moment. Many times, when we’re in the traditions as they are happening, we hate them, or we resent their existence because we think, “I could be doing something much more important with my time right now.” Maybe that’s true. But, think of these moments as investments for your future well-being and the well-being of your friends and loved ones.  Let’s bring in a little research from the American Psychological Association who released some findings from a 50-year review that was dedicated to the study of family routines and rituals. What they found was that “family routines and rituals are alive and well and are associated with marital satisfaction, adolescents' sense of personal identity, children's health, academic achievement and stronger family relationships” (link).  

Let’s come back to our man Martin. One of the things that he is yearning for is not simply a return to childhood but a return to tradition and ritual. He would always get a chocolate soda with 3-scoops; he remembers Mr. Wilson always sleeping in the stock room of the soda store; the music from the merry-go-round; and even the food from each summer. Now, this is where the story can turn into a 16 millimeter shrine moment. Martin can get trapped in this past, if not for the wonderful words of his father: he tells his son, “maybe when you go back, you’ll find there are merry-go-rounds and band concerts where you are. Maybe you haven’t been looking in the right place.” 

Martin needed to go back in time; he needed to be reminded of what it felt like to look forward to traditional moments of wonder and joy. If you’re feeling, in a rut, as Martin tells his own father, maybe you haven’t been looking in the right place either. There are merry-go-rounds and band concerts still in the world right now, but sometimes, we have to be the ones to build them. If there are no traditions in your family or group of friends, there’s no better time to start one than right now. 

Question 3: Where did you find your moment of awe, something that moved you or inspired you to think beyond the surface? I already alluded to this toward the beginning of the episode, but it’s the exchange between older Martin and his father. There’s a kind of Field of Dreams father-son connection there that calls to people, and as I said, I like the nuanced approach of the actor who somehow balances caring with a healthy, stern approach of a father, especially when he says, “you can’t stay here.” It’s incredibly powerful and quite moving. It’s the kind of tone today that we often misinterpret as being mean or uncaring, but it might just be the most caring tone that we actually have–the willingness of a parent to be hated, to take on the hurt of the child, in order to purchase a better future for their progeny. It’s beautiful. 

As for my rating, well, this is the first to make it into my upper tier, but it’s an upper-lower tier. It’s the kind of episode that I would go downstairs, grab the dvd, and go watch, but it won’t spark a marathon run for me. I’ll just get my fix and probably move on with life. I’m always curious to hear what you all think, so please, use the link in the episode description to cast your vote and have your say.

Next time, we’ll be discussing “Escape Clause” Here are your questions to consider as you watch.

1. Question 1: If you were offered immortality, would you take it? 

2. Question 2: Is there a part of us that is more comfortable in misery than in happiness?

3. Question 3: What are your moments of awe here? 

Head over to thekeyofimagination.com to continue our conversation. You can rate this episode, learn more about me, watch previous episodes of the show, and check out my curios page where I showcase some of the Twilight Zone trinkets I’ve bought over the years. I encourage people to email me thoughts and comments, whether it’s about a particular Twilight Zone episode, your ranking for an episode, or about the Key of Imagination Show. You can send your thoughts to me via email, an audio clip, or even a video clip of roughly no more than 5 minutes to keyofimaginationshow@gmail.com. Keep in mind, we’re trying to maintain a family-friendly atmosphere. If you would rather I not use your comments on the show, please indicate that so I can respect your decision. 

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