Being a senior citizen is way over-rated, just sayin’. For the accumulation of surviving child-rearing, lifelong job stress, and overall life management, so many retirees come across as having earned the right to complain about how life was better when they were younger—even though the memory of better days past are only good in hindsight when the present gets too complicated or irrelevant. Hardships and injustices in times past are for lectures to the young about “when I was young, we had to _____ (you fill in the blank). That’s when the “good old days” were really the tough and gritty old days.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. You forget the things that made you cry when nobody was looking. You forget the reason you finally understood why there are speed limits on roads. You forget the reason why the high school reunion is more of a curiosity than a good time had by all. You’re glad that hair curlers are a thing of the past, but wonder why you thought big teased hair was attractive. You hide your high school yearbook—God forbid someone should actually see it—but wonder why it never made its way to the curb.
In our nostalgic reverie, we get very selective about the things that are lost to the present world, wanting to mentally relive the things that make us feel good—like when you can’t figure out what just happened to your computer, and how to navigate the insane world of phone apps. Hey, give me a break—I went to school with a fountain pen! Just recently I found myself explaining how a typewriter works to a group of college kids who had no clue. Some things we either don’t see any more or if so, it’s rare enough to be a novelty. So, indulge me if I do a bit of reminiscing.
Dressing Up. Yep, people actually got dressed up in their “nice” clothes to go shopping, to religious services, to doctor appointments, whenever it meant leaving the house. Everybody wore hats—men, women, kids—and some were pretty outrageous. Gloves were part of the outfit, not only for winter warmth. Kids changed their school clothes into play clothes when they came home. Women mostly wore dresses, not pants. Many didn’t even own any. But you forget about using clear nail polish to stop a run in your nylons. Wearing provocative low cut or tight form-fitting clothing was a no-no that presumed naughty-not-nice character, which may still be true in some cases—hard to tell and I’m not going there. Perhaps a blog for another day.
People didn’t get uptight when a friend just dropped in unexpectedly. It didn’t matter that the house may have been a little disheveled. If you were cooking, you continued until you were finished while engaging in conversation. The friend pitched in and washed the dishes. If it was supper time, you just added more settings. No big deal. There was always room for one more. Saturday night was time for friends and family gatherings – a card game or watching a TV show together with a large bowl of popcorn. Society folk had cocktail parties, but not having grown up with the hoity-toity class, I only know about them from black and white movies.
Restaurants were fewer in number and fine dining out for the average family was reserved for very special occasions. A diner was a place where home-style cooking could be had for a reasonable price—not complicated. Diners now have menus that resemble the great American novel. It takes a full half hour to read the multiple pages and then decide on a BLT and coffee because a hundred choices are just too much. Luncheonettes offered simple but hearty breakfast and lunch menus, no dinner. Some department stores like Woolworths had lunch counters where you could grab a quick sandwich and apple pie. Ice cream parlors sometimes offered simple meals besides ice cream sundaes, cones, and milkshakes.
Today’s folks get together for dinner at a restaurant, but back then, people had dinner parties at home. It put a lot of pressure on women to prepare a killer meal (not literally) with the right accouterments. Yep, women most often did the cooking. Men now share some of that, but I’m not sure that’s changed as much as we think. Dining etiquette was expected—no boarding house reach, no eating with fingers, and no chewing with open mouths “like a cow.” Families actually ate together every evening where kids learned table manners and dining conversation. Imagine having dinner without cell phones in hand.
Kid culture was more outside than in. Street roller skating (the kind that needed a key to tighten the skate on your shoes), hopscotch, box ball, punch ball, stickball, all kinds of tag, and rope jumping rhymes were taught by kids for kids. Play dates did not exist and nobody feared being kidnapped. Here’s where you learned the balance between winning and fairness. Nobody expected a trophy for showing up.
And then there were the safety patrol kids who stood on critical corners charged to help other kids cross safely. They were identified by their special white patrol belts. It was very cool to be a patrol kid. Now senior citizens get to wear the patrol vests and carry stop signs to stop traffic for pedestrians. Maybe they were patrol kids.
Lots of other things define a time long gone – milk bottles regularly delivered in a special box at your door. Local newspapers flung on your doorstep by a kid on a bike or walking with a huge newspaper bag was common. Every local hair salon had its special uniform for its employees. I could go on and on, but quaint has short appeal. I’ve come to the conclusion that life is not just surviving until you get to collect Social Security.
The promise of the “golden years” as a destination is like a ring in your jewelry box that was 10K gold filled—shiny but worthless. Being a senior is not a destination. It has challenges just as youth and middle age did, only now they are different. Even though I get nostalgic now and then, I don’t want to waste time commiserating about how great things were. I want to enjoy the best of the present. I get to “bust my buttons” about every little thing my grown kids do that make me so proud of them. I get to believe that my adorable little granddaughter has a bright future and I get to be a part of that. The conclusion is pretty simple: LIFE IS ALWAYS GOOD.