My Good Old Days Were Better Than Yours

Do you remember the good old days? I do. At least they were the good old days to me. My Mother would laugh and call me a young whippersnapper and that the good old days were when she was young.

My Mother has shared many of the trials and tribulations of growing up in rural Ohio with me. I heard about how her father would hunt squirrel to feed his large growing family and how they grew fruits and vegetables also. Weeds were pulled and plants were watered by hand of course since way back then there were no garden hoses. Watering consisted of carrying buckets out to the garden. Oh and did I forget to mention that the garden wasn't in the patio, or even the back yard, but a good seventy-five feet from the door since in those days people had fields too? I don't know about you but all of that carrying and weeding and sweating and heat, makes me nostalgic. Now the garden has been taken care of and the chickens have been fed and the eggs gathered and the cows milked and the fire stirred up in the coal stove. Breakfast was actually cooked, not poured nor micro-waved.

My Mother shared how in the winter time she and her sisters and brothers slept in the attic with no heat, while the only thing that kept them warm was each others body heat and a couple of homemade blankets. The bucket that was kept by the bed for the purpose of nature's call in the middle of the night had to be emptied before anyone could eat. There were also rare instances when icicles formed around the inner window and the children would race each other to gain access to the area around the kitchen stove to get their clothes on in the only warm spot in the house. How she longed for those good old days.

I grew up in the late forties and fifties. Things were so much better then, though still not as great as my mother's real good old days. We had milk in bottles which actually stayed cold in a refrigerator. We had cereal in boxes and real, actual electric in our houses. No oil lanterns or candles for my generation. We had progress in our side. I remember watching T.V. when I was five or six, and still miss "Howdy Doody," to this day. Now my good old days, really were the authentic ones. We stood in the snow and waited for the school bus in the mornings before the sun came up. How I miss those cold, wet feet.

We were expected to do our homework whether or not we wanted to and we were not expected to talk back or talk when not addressed. Oh, I almost forgot one of the best good old day thing that really did happen was a good old fashioned air raid drills. You remember those? Under the desk with arms over your head because that would be the only way we would survive a nuclear attack. How I longed to be rich so that we would be able to afford a backyard bomb shelter.Oh yes, I miss those days. We played outside and used our (gasp) imaginations to think of things to do in the summer. Boring wasn't a word in our vocabularies. If we didn't have something to do, Mom or Dad could find plenty of chores for us to do. I love to drift through antique shops looking for metal lunch boxes and rhinestone jewelry. I was obsessed with those jewels because I thought it made my Mom look so elegant when she and my Father would go out to the local club. I could hardly wait until I could wear some of those baubles. How I long for those days. We were so spoiled, my Mom told me so all of the time.

Now my grown children sit on an occassional Sunday when they are all over to visit and reminesce about the good old days. They talk about how they had it so hard walking down the street to school. I guess it was far. Two or three blocks at least. They had to eat actual peanut butter and jelly because if there were micro waves back then, we didn't own one. Homework had to be done as long as we parents helped and checked it all and signed it off when done. The teacher told us we had to. Our kids had to make do with crayons and dolls and something called a Teddy Ruxpin. They made do with phones in their rooms when they were old enough to be responsible. I almost forgot how they loved their boomboxes, though they were so heavy to lug around. Video games were amazing and kept them occupied for hours. I still feel guilty about the hard lives that my children had. They miss the days of eighties music and tapes that played it. How sad they look as they sit and talk about how great those good old days were. My grandchildren love to listen to those stories about how great the days were when my son and daughters were young.

I will be sure to stick around and live long enough to share with my grandchildren about how great the good old days really were. Those were the only ones that really counted because they were mine.