“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

So begins Charles Dickens’ French Revolution-era novel “A Tale of Two Cities.”

So also begins my segue into a discussion I had with a fellow radio-show host Friday (Incidentally, this is in no way intended as any sort of shameless self-promotion. I’m merely trying to set the scene).

Our discourse that evening revolved around the here, the now and the unadulterated excesses of 21st-century, developed society. The comment that had me wondering for the rest of the weekend was something like “this is such an exciting time to be alive. I wouldn’t want to live during any other time.”

This sentiment got me thinking, simply because I wasn’t at all sure I agreed with it.

As a self-avowed bookworm, I’ve spent much of my life immersing myself in times past and sometimes future, idealized visions of what the world was and what it should have been and gritty portrayals of what it probably was and must inevitably be.

I’ve read “Gone With the Wind,” “Pride and Prejudice,” “Le Morte D’Arthur,” “The Beautiful and the Damned,” “Barry Lyndon,” “Romeo and Juliet” and even “A Child’s Book of Myths and Enchantment Tales” (among other things) and been thoroughly convinced each and every one of the disparate times and places these novels depict were infinitely more compelling than when and where I was.

And yet here I sit, in front of a computer in the sixth month of the first year of the new millennium. My cell phone just rang, I’ve got to reply to e-mail from friends in Alaska and Scotland and in the meantime call information to get my brother’s phone number in Annapolis, Md.

Surely there can be no better time than the present. Or at least not one more convenient. But what if there was?

“It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,” Dickens continues. Yet another apt description of nearly every era since recorded time began, maybe most lucid when used in conjunction with our own.

We appear to be at the cusp of our society’s technological development. We know more about the human body, the outer reaches of space and the inner lives of celebrities than any people who have come before us.

Yet for all our vast stores of practical knowledge and regardless of the enormous body of recorded history ready and waiting to teach us valuable lessons, we remain a people sometimes stubborn to the point of idiocy.

We haven’t yet accepted the premises that war doesn’t often solve anything, that a downtrodden people will inevitably rise up in attempts to overthrow their oppressor, that one man (or woman) fighting for what he or she truly believes is more powerful than any hired mercenary (note to NATO) and everyone who is born on this earth has a valid point to make if you take the time to listen.

“It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,” Dickens carries on. Great language, old boy. And again, too true.

For the most part, the citizens of the developed world seem to strongly believe in the strength of our position, the might of our military forces and the unerring right to spread our prescription of largely unhindered economic growth for all that ails the rest of you.

But some have looked with unbelieving eyes on the rampant disregard for cultural values, traditional beliefs and future consequences of present actions so easily adopted by many great civilizations.

Whether one considers the glory days of ancient Rome and its various Ceasars, Hernán Cortés and his gang of Spanish conquistadors, Queen Victoria and the golden age of British imperialism or Slobodan Milosevic and the atrocities he inspired, there is no shortage of valid examples of government-sanctioned assimilation gone wrong.

“It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness.”

That fits, too. What could be a better representation of light, if light can be seen in the procurement of intellectual enlightenment, than the relatively ubiquitous access to information, opinions and education enjoyed by much of the world?

Great works of art fill museums open for your viewing pleasure. Motion pictures are available to rent at your convenience. No matter your taste, excellent music is almost always available from some radio station, and radios aren’t nearly as expensive as they used to be. What more could anyone ask for?

But there is much to avert one’s eyes and ears from:

The continuing spread of the AIDS epidemic, despite increasingly effective treatments, is distressing. Reports of voter apathy in democratic countries, indicating people just don’t believe their voice is important, is particularly upsetting for me. Repeated incidents of ethnic cleansing and violent political strife in countries as diverse as Yugoslavia, Rwanda and Indonesia are certainly cause for concern.

And yet, despite my tendency toward trepidation, my attitude remains invariably one of optimism. I am glad to be alive at this time (although I must confess an occasional desire to wear gorgeous dresses every day and fancy myself ready to wed someone before I’ve ever kissed him).

Our generation is truly standing on the shoulders of giants. The example of all who have come before us, from the lowliest English serf to the most arrogant Egyptian queen, is here for us to learn from, if we choose to.

And my hope is that we will pass over the “winter of despair” into Dickens’ spring of hope. At our fingertips we have everything we could possibly need to make our mark on the world - one that will be remembered as surely as that of our founding fathers’.

I’d even be so bold as to argue we’ve got something essential they didn’t. But then, as all my friends can attest, I am ridiculously attached to my cell phone.

Maria Del Zoppo, State News opinion editor, can be reached at delzoppo@msu.edu.