The Good Old Days
Ahhh, yes; the good old days. A phrase we hear so often in our lifetimes, but the meaning of which is often hard to define. It has carried over into social media in a big way, which I reckon shows that the good old days are still around. At least, the phrase is.
What, though, does it mean? When we are young children, we hear it from our elders. Usually Grandparents first, then, parents. During my youth, we usually responded ( at least in thought, if not verbally ) 'well, times change.'. We don't consider, for instance, what Grandma means when she says it, and what Mom means when she does. Then, we get older, and one day we wake up thinking, damn, I miss the good old days.
Recently, a new wave of nostalgia has opened up ( among older folks, but surprisingly, among younger ones too ) via the internet, and social media. It has gotten me started thinking: yes, I sometimes miss the good old days, but, then I think: why? What about them do I miss? This generated a lot of garbage in my mind, and today, I am here to dump some of it.
As I grew up in the 50's and 60's ( reaching my teen years in the mid-60's ), my 'good old days' era certainly isn't the same as that of my grandparents, or parents. First, what era do I consider my 'good old days'? I have concluded that my 'good old days' ended between 1968 and 1975. It's subjective, certainly.
So, the 50's. I actually don't remember much of this decade, since for the most part I was happy, healthy ( well, MOST of the time ), and my memories are of playing, toys, early television ( yes, black and white, and very small screens and very touchy reception ), great food, and parents always there when and if I needed them ( and sometimes when I didn't ). Starting school, which was a very traumatic experience for me even though I had no idea what traumatic experiences were. Baseball and boxing on television; I was a kid, I didn't identify with any person or team, I just liked watching. Because of where we lived, a lot of news about market prices for farm commodities. Radio was still a big thing, country music was what we heard most, but we got a taste of that new 'rock n roll' fad, which of course I liked. By the late 50's, and on into the 60's, I was exposed to more world events, television improved a little, music was evolving, I was paying more attention to what was going on around me. I still played, still ate well, always had a roof, parents still there for me ( and who trusted me, not always a good idea, ya know ). I was beginning to learn a little about economics, and about working for what you get.
One thing I never had to worry about, or think about: the pressures of being a adult in a society that, at this time, was extremely repressed, prudish, and divided. I never saw it, never had to. I never considered the pressures my parents faced, day in and out, of how to provide a roof, good food, education for their children, and the care for ills and spills that happened with all children of the time. I was never aware of their sacrifice, because they never made me aware of it. I was allowed to be a child. I was punished, yes, if I did wrong, but I was praised also for the good things I did. I was allowed responsibility at a fairly early age, with varying levels of it every year after. Looking back, I can say it may have been a bit too early, but I recall taking it very seriously. Certainly, I wasn't always successful, but I have learned since that it didn't matter, because that is what maturity is. Being responsible and knowing, sometimes, you are just going to make stupid decisions. It was their way of teaching me.
That was one constant, during my 'good old days'. The other was--I was healthy. Reasonably. Had my moments, sure. Serious bout with pneumonia and Asiatic flu when I was in second grade. After that, yearly bouts of varying severity with pneumonia and bronchitis. Usually beginning around my birthday ( that hasn't changed, by the way. If I am going to get sick, it's usually around then ). But. I could run, jump, play baseball and football, and even if I got sore or banged up, I was usually good to go next day. And it was never severe enough for me to even notice. In other words: I had no idea what it was to feel every day like I'd been in a fight with a gorilla. Minor scrapes and bruises, an occasional sprain or fracture, but nothing long lasting. So, no pain, day in and out. I could move about freely. My balance was good. Normal, you could say. I rode bikes, climbed trees, chased down fly balls and hot grounders, mowed lawns, played with the dog, worked a bit in the garden or helped a neighbor with shoveling snow or making house repairs, and I could go from sunup to long after sundown with all the energy I required.
So, what do I miss about the 'good old days'? My youth. That is really it in a nutshell. Being free of pain and having freedom of movement. It isn't the TV, or the prices (they may look great, til you consider how much money one had to spend; it was REALLY different then), or even the social mores. Ten cents for a soda sounds great, but the reality was, it might take you a month to save up a dollar. Twenty nine cents for a gallon of gas, or for a hamburger, fries, and coke sounds great, until you realize that it took a hour of work to earn two dollars, IF you could find someone who'd pay you that much.
So, when you hear me, or someone my age or older, say they miss the 'good old days', keep in mind that what we are really saying is, we miss being young. Youth is a remarkable commodity, and we do miss it. We will include many things in what we miss, but, bottom line? Our minds can retain youth, our bodies won't, and that is what we miss more than anything. At least, I know I do.
Again, if you have made it this far, thanks for reading and allowing me to share my brain dumps with you! I appreciate it.
What, though, does it mean? When we are young children, we hear it from our elders. Usually Grandparents first, then, parents. During my youth, we usually responded ( at least in thought, if not verbally ) 'well, times change.'. We don't consider, for instance, what Grandma means when she says it, and what Mom means when she does. Then, we get older, and one day we wake up thinking, damn, I miss the good old days.
Recently, a new wave of nostalgia has opened up ( among older folks, but surprisingly, among younger ones too ) via the internet, and social media. It has gotten me started thinking: yes, I sometimes miss the good old days, but, then I think: why? What about them do I miss? This generated a lot of garbage in my mind, and today, I am here to dump some of it.
As I grew up in the 50's and 60's ( reaching my teen years in the mid-60's ), my 'good old days' era certainly isn't the same as that of my grandparents, or parents. First, what era do I consider my 'good old days'? I have concluded that my 'good old days' ended between 1968 and 1975. It's subjective, certainly.
So, the 50's. I actually don't remember much of this decade, since for the most part I was happy, healthy ( well, MOST of the time ), and my memories are of playing, toys, early television ( yes, black and white, and very small screens and very touchy reception ), great food, and parents always there when and if I needed them ( and sometimes when I didn't ). Starting school, which was a very traumatic experience for me even though I had no idea what traumatic experiences were. Baseball and boxing on television; I was a kid, I didn't identify with any person or team, I just liked watching. Because of where we lived, a lot of news about market prices for farm commodities. Radio was still a big thing, country music was what we heard most, but we got a taste of that new 'rock n roll' fad, which of course I liked. By the late 50's, and on into the 60's, I was exposed to more world events, television improved a little, music was evolving, I was paying more attention to what was going on around me. I still played, still ate well, always had a roof, parents still there for me ( and who trusted me, not always a good idea, ya know ). I was beginning to learn a little about economics, and about working for what you get.
One thing I never had to worry about, or think about: the pressures of being a adult in a society that, at this time, was extremely repressed, prudish, and divided. I never saw it, never had to. I never considered the pressures my parents faced, day in and out, of how to provide a roof, good food, education for their children, and the care for ills and spills that happened with all children of the time. I was never aware of their sacrifice, because they never made me aware of it. I was allowed to be a child. I was punished, yes, if I did wrong, but I was praised also for the good things I did. I was allowed responsibility at a fairly early age, with varying levels of it every year after. Looking back, I can say it may have been a bit too early, but I recall taking it very seriously. Certainly, I wasn't always successful, but I have learned since that it didn't matter, because that is what maturity is. Being responsible and knowing, sometimes, you are just going to make stupid decisions. It was their way of teaching me.
That was one constant, during my 'good old days'. The other was--I was healthy. Reasonably. Had my moments, sure. Serious bout with pneumonia and Asiatic flu when I was in second grade. After that, yearly bouts of varying severity with pneumonia and bronchitis. Usually beginning around my birthday ( that hasn't changed, by the way. If I am going to get sick, it's usually around then ). But. I could run, jump, play baseball and football, and even if I got sore or banged up, I was usually good to go next day. And it was never severe enough for me to even notice. In other words: I had no idea what it was to feel every day like I'd been in a fight with a gorilla. Minor scrapes and bruises, an occasional sprain or fracture, but nothing long lasting. So, no pain, day in and out. I could move about freely. My balance was good. Normal, you could say. I rode bikes, climbed trees, chased down fly balls and hot grounders, mowed lawns, played with the dog, worked a bit in the garden or helped a neighbor with shoveling snow or making house repairs, and I could go from sunup to long after sundown with all the energy I required.
So, what do I miss about the 'good old days'? My youth. That is really it in a nutshell. Being free of pain and having freedom of movement. It isn't the TV, or the prices (they may look great, til you consider how much money one had to spend; it was REALLY different then), or even the social mores. Ten cents for a soda sounds great, but the reality was, it might take you a month to save up a dollar. Twenty nine cents for a gallon of gas, or for a hamburger, fries, and coke sounds great, until you realize that it took a hour of work to earn two dollars, IF you could find someone who'd pay you that much.
So, when you hear me, or someone my age or older, say they miss the 'good old days', keep in mind that what we are really saying is, we miss being young. Youth is a remarkable commodity, and we do miss it. We will include many things in what we miss, but, bottom line? Our minds can retain youth, our bodies won't, and that is what we miss more than anything. At least, I know I do.
Again, if you have made it this far, thanks for reading and allowing me to share my brain dumps with you! I appreciate it.
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