When I Grew Up…
My kids complain a lot about how I go down the ‘when I grew up’ road way too often. It’s just so easy sometimes. Helps me make a point, like my latest rant: When I grew up, we ate supper together on Sundays. At 2 o’clock. Not because we were hungry, or it was raining, but because grandma said so. Afterwards, we played kickball ‘til dark. We didn’t have hover boards or Fortnite or Twittergrams or Snapbook. When we fell on the driveway during a game of ‘Red Rover’, mom didn’t rush us to urgent care. There was no urgent care. She layered on three Band Aides and gave you a slice of warmed up apple pie. Yes we were sad when the Yankees and Sox were in a rain delay, but dad cheered us up by putting the Polka on the record player and throwing us on his shoulders. We danced. We had a simple life with at most three principles, and I’m pretty sure two of them had something to do with mashed potatoes. We didn’t text or Jabber or FaceTime, we stood by an answering machine hooked up to the rotary dial, replaying Sam’s message because you couldn’t hear the phone number the first dozen times. ‘Download’ was not a word. To hear Survivor’s You Can’t Hold Back, we had to rewind Side B for six seconds, then flip the cassette at least a half dozen times to get to Side A to just the right time. When we were bored, we picked up a shovel and dug a hole, found some worms and put them under my sister’s pillow. Our friends were mostly the seven people we shared the upstairs bathroom with. The same seven we fought with for the Raisin Bran. We wrestled with grandma, played ‘setback’ with papa, and listened to Joe Castiglione call the game on the AM dial. On a good day, I would hold the bunny ears on the RCA, so we could watch the game on TV. What strikes me about then is how strikingly familiar it is to now. Last weekend, I asked Tommy to lean the phone against the wheelbarrow when we weeded the driveway. We listened to a replay of the inning Fisk hit that homerun. We ate spaghetti around two and then played Twister, until the dog peed on the green circle. What’s past is prologue. I would argue that, for some of us lucky enough to be safe and healthy, we aren’t standing still at all as it may seem. We are going back, and there’s some good to come from that...