These are days....You'll Remember

"These are days you'll remember

Never before and never since

I promise

Will the whole world be warm as this

And as you feel it

You'll know it's true

That you are blessed and lucky."

---Natalie Merchant

What is it about the "good old days" that makes us long for them? I'm not a time lord, so no phone box will allow me to pop off to another era that some say was so much better. Recently, a discussion among some friends (OK, it was Facebook, but all those who commented were real-life people, most from here in town) awoke a bit of a controversy over the good old days, how it was, what is different now, and who's to blame for it all. Sometimes I use a social media post as a kind of journal entry. Then I can go back in a year or so and see what was happening at a particular time. This post wasn't meant to be one of those; it was intended to be funny. 

I had taken the very unusual step of pulling my couch out from the wall and cleaning under it. The exact details of everything that was under there should remain unexplained, but it was a treasure trove of spare change, Legos, hair ties and silverware. It was like the mythical graveyard of cutlery. There may have been some bowls too. That is when the wheels came off the Electrolux, and the debate began.

While a few of my friends could relate, in just a few comments it became clear that my habits as a housekeeper and a mother were the cause of all the evils of our modern society. My children and their milk-slopping, Cheerio-chomping, snack-snogging little faces were devoid of manners, and I had let it happen, right under my nose. Sad! Apparently, some of my friends have traveled further along the road of life than I have, and they remembered when mothers stayed at home, served the family meals around a table, and nary a speck of food had ever been near their couches. Well, I remember those days too. I was a little kid in the late 60s, the Mad Men era of little boxes, on the hillside. It wasn't all Dick Van Dyke, tripping over the ottoman while Laura made a roast and Richie was conveniently in his room. There were workaholic fathers who drank too much, and mothers who often smoked like chimneys or nipped at the cooking sherry in the pantry. There was a war on, and it played on the television every night. Citizens were sprayed with fire hoses or pelted with rocks for the vicious crime of trying to vote or go to school. Good times, right?

Maybe it's just a Kelley thing, and I come by lackadaisical food rules the same way I got my red hair and my attitude? Our house did not look like a Ladies' Home Journal spread. My mother was much more Peg Bundy than Laura Petrie, which was probably difficult for her at the time, but she was always a rebel; it was likely deliberate on her part. The one fact most of my friends agreed on though, was that the family has changed. That's because time has marched on and change is necessary. There are blended families, single-parent families, families with two moms, or two dads. Parents work more; social research has shown that. Children are busier, not playing kick the can or tag, but club soccer and lacrosse. There is, sadly, still a war on, and there isn't a day that goes by that the news doesn't show a bombing, a shooting or a violent protest. We all know there are still parents who drink too much or suffer in silence but put on a good face.

What does any of that have to do with my nonexistent vacuuming skills? Nothing. That's the point. While some contended that the previous generation of stay at home mommies and societal expectations was the better way to live, I'm not buying that, not entirely. Rather than looking at a specific decade, we should turn our attention instead to who we are now, rather than who someone else was back in the day. The truth is, our recollections of the past are not always infallible. The brain processes memories every day. There are thousands of minutes and hours of experience, and not everything is retained. We forget because the mind needs to do that to make room for new minutes and hours of what is to come. We can't be fully present in our lives today if we are still looking back at what used to be.

I read somewhere that there is a reason the windshield of a car is usually larger than the rear window. And my father, a member of "The Greatest Generation," always told me "Don't look backward, you're not going that way. Also, you'll fall on your arse." Was this discussion a come to Jesus moment? Am I going to suddenly turn into a hybrid of Martha Stewart and June Cleaver and keep a home worthy of a magazine layout after witnessing my living room landfill? No. Not even close. Are the kids banned from morning cereal on the couch and late-night snacks in the recliner? No. The days gone by hold a lot of sweet memories for me, but they are over. These are the days, and despite it all, we are blessed and lucky.

  

This Week's Column

Hi! Faithful followers (both of you) here is where I would normally post my Marblehead Reporter column for this week, 2/15/2018  Except somehow the silicon chip inside my head....OK, yes, a senior moment, a brain fart, whatever resulted in me writing a column and yet never actually pushing "SEND" on the email to my ever faithful, ever vigilant editor. 

Rookie mistake, I mean I've only been a writer since I was like, fifteen.  So there is no sage advice this week except to say that...tune in next week to the Marblehead Reporter for the column I intended to publish this week. Irony alert...it's about planning, organization, and to do lists. Because I am a feckin genius with that.

BACK IN TIME

“In every age, the ‘good old days’ were a myth. No one ever thought they were good at the time”

---Brooks Atkinson   

I’m very happy to live in this time. We have technology that saves lives; we have resources that will ensure that our children will have it even better than we do and we can literally travel to any corner of the earth with ease. People used to die of diseases that don’t even exist anymore. Setting aside politics and war, which have pretty much impacted every decade since the Big Bang, it really is a wonderful time to be alive.

Except for all the other times, right? For whatever reason, people like to look back. They want to remember how it used to be before. Before what? Before I had my hip replaced, I walked funny and was in pain a lot. Now I’m bionic, sort of.  How cool is that? Before there were smartphones, waiting in the deli line meant listening to grocery store Muzak and making small talk with strangers. Now I can bury my head in the screen, stream some Taylor Swift songs and talk to strangers on the Internet.

I wasn’t born until 1964, so I missed the 1950’s, but if it were possible, that is a time I think I would like to visit. My father was a car guy; in the 1950’s he probably had a dozen cars in total. The family album (truthfully, it's just a shoe box) is full of photos of him standing in front of some big fendered iron beast with fins and whitewalls.  The cars during this decade were nothing short of amazing. Today we have airbags, and anti-lock brakes and safer is better, but a 1957 Chevy Bel Air could broadside a tree at 35 miles an house and still be driven home. I know this because Dad did just that. A new headlight and a little sandpaper and paint and he was back on the road.  The car my mother drove us around in when we were little was just slightly newer than the Chevy, it was 1961 Buick Special station wagon and it was practically a tank.

The cars are not the only part of that time that fascinates me. The clothes were just fabulous. For women, they were probably uncomfortable because of all the straps and hooks and rib-crushing foundation garments, but how do you not love every outfit Audrey Hepburn ever wore? Ok, that’s not a good example, she was beyond beautiful, if she wore a Hefty bag it would look chic, but the clothes of that time were inspired. Women wore hats and gorgeous shoes and carried tiny handbags instead of “hobo” bags. The casual clothes, like pegged pants and an oversized cotton shirt tied up at the waist, looked like a page out of Vogue.  There is a photo of my mother wearing pants, a pair of flats and a cashmere twinset and I bet that outfit would still be considered on trend today.

My cooking skills leave a lot to be desired, but photos of the kitchens in the 1950s make me think that even my pitiful culinary efforts would be delicious. First, a typical kitchen back then was larger than the entire downstairs of my house now.  The kitchen in the house we lived in until I was eight years old was a perfect example. There was a pantry. Seriously, the kitchen was two rooms. The colors were red and white, and the stove probably weighed more than a Volkswagon, but it was a great space. When my lottery ticket turns out to be the winner, I am going to duplicate that kitchen and probably buy a 1961 Buick as well.

The 1950s have gone though, but that is a good thing. Women aren’t tied to those fantastic kitchens anymore, and they can buy their own houses and cars without needing permission from their husbands. People are living longer now, probably because we aren’t all sitting around swilling Manhattans and sucking down Lucky Strikes. Schools are better, especially since kids don't have to have to practice their safety drills for a possible nuclear attack. We know now that if that does happen, hiding under the desk will not help, so there’s more time to learn.

It’s true that everyone looks back and thinks the “old days” were a better and simpler time, but someday our kids will call today one of the good old days. That’s how it should be; doesn’t everyone want their children to think back fondly of what their lives were like when they were young? No ten-year-old today is going to look back and be sad about the political world or the war. They’re going to remember how awesome it was to have a PS4 or a Wii, both of which will probably be on display at the Smithsonian. It’s OK to want to pick and chose what we remember from a time gone by; it’s not a history test. In the meantime, I wish I had kept the silver aluminum Christmas tree with the spinning colored disk, but at least I have a Polaroid of it.