Saturday, November 20, 2021

MORE ABOUT ‘THE GOOD OLD DAYS’ . . .


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A few days ago I posted an item headed ‘Today’s Reality’, sample:

Lots of friends on Facebook
No best friends

High IQ
Less emotions

Advanced medicine
Poor health

That was followed by a series of pics that had been sent to me, pics that looked back at days gone by and bemoaned comparison with today.

I also mentioned that I was not a fan of looking back through rose coloured glasses, that we perceive only goods times lost and are blind to the bad things of the past.

So it is ironic that friend and colleague Leo M sent the chat group of which I am a member an email headed This Is So True and doing just that. This touched off some responses and exchanges from other members in the group, posted below.

I would be interested in what others think.

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Leo’s email:
This Is So True

A Bit of Nostalgia

My mum used to cut chicken, chop eggs and spread butter on bread on the same cutting board with the same knife and no bleach, but we didn't seem to get food poisoning.

Our school sandwiches were wrapped in wax paper in a brown paper bag, not in ice pack coolers, but I can't remember getting e. Coli

Almost all of us would have rather gone swimming in a creek, the lake or at the beach instead of a pristine chlorinated pool (talk about boring), no beach closures then either?

We all took PE ..... And risked permanent injury with a pair of Dunlop sandshoes, bare feet if you couldn't afford the runners instead of having cross-training athletic shoes with air cushion soles and built in light reflectors that cost as much as a small car. I can't recall any injuries but they must have happened because they tell us how much safer we are now.

We got the cane or the strap for doing something wrong at school, they used to call it discipline yet we all grew up to accept the rules and to honour & respect those older than us.

We had at least 40 kids in our class and somehow we all learned to read and write, do maths and spell almost all the words needed to write a grammatically correct letter......., FUNNY THAT!!

We all said prayers in school irrespective of our religion, sang the national anthem and saluted the Flag and no one got upset.

Staying in detention after school netted us all sorts of negative attention we wish we hadn't got.

And we all knew we had to accomplish something before we were allowed to be proud of ourselves.

I just can't recall how bored we were without computers, Play Station, Nintendo, X-box or 270 digital TV cable stations. We weren't!!

Don t even mention about the rope swing into the river or climbing trees.

Oh yeah ... And where were the antibiotics and sterilisation kit when I got that bee sting? I could have been killed!

We played "King of the Castle" on piles of dirt or gravel left on vacant building sites and when we got hurt, mum pulled out the 2/6p bottle of iodine and then we got our backside spanked. Now it's a trip to the emergency room, followed by a 10 day dose of antibiotics and then mum calls the lawyer to sue the contractor for leaving a horribly vicious pile of gravel where it was such a threat.

To top it off, not a single person I knew had ever been told that they were from a dysfunctional family. How could we possibly have known that? We never needed to get into group therapy and/or anger management classes. We were obviously so duped by so many societal ills, that we didn't even notice that the entire country wasn't taking Prozac!

SOME OF US SHARED THIS ERA.

AND TO ALL WHO DIDN'T, SORRY FOR WHAT YOU MISSED. WOULDN'T TRADE IT FOR ANYTHING!

Remembering that life's most simple pleasures are very often the best.

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Speaking of swinging on ropes . . .

When I was 16 I swung across a creek in the bush where we lived and the rope broke. I broke my leg and, being on my own, crawled home a half kilometre or more. I was in a plaster cast from crutch to toe for 16 weeks and it left me with a leg shortening that causes me problems to this day.

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A response to Leo by Sam S:
Bullshit.

We all grew up in the same era and I defy anyone to say that if it were possible, he would want to revert back to those days of ignorance, racial and sexual discrimination, leaded petrol, the prevalence and tacit acceptance of wife and child-beating (despite what we hear these days about domestic violence), sexual molestation of young people because shamefully, there was no public hue and cry about it back then, etc etc etc.

For those that want to feel nostalgic about the good old days, good luck to you but you do know that Vegemite is still stocked on the supermarket shelves, don’t you?

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Reply to Sam by Tony G:
Sam che cazzo ? When did you first start feeling like this ??? I know some good therapists !!!

You certainly won’t be known as THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE !!!

Have you read that Novel ?

Might be worthwhile.
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A response from Sam:
It’s fashionable among the older generation to reminisce on what things were like when they were young and consider them as the good old days. What a load of crap.

It’s our generation and those of our predecessors who have fucked up this planet for our children and their children. So where is the “good” in the old days that are we are referring to?

Don’t get me started.

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A response by Tony:
Which older generation ? Ours ? We are unfortunately Three Score and Ten and heading to eighty !!! It is our children's and grand childrens time now !!

I never think of the past except for when I am recalling my late parents who have been gone for many years.

I don't remember any of our cohort sentimentalising at our dinners or reminiscing about the past (only occasions are when Vince and Leo are sending around this type of revisit email).

I am with you---- but no use looking back with anger. It is non productive as is being sentimental.

But doesn't mean we can’t listen to the music of 60s, 70s etc with great pleasure.

Do you remember the Rita Pavone song- Giovane Giovane ??

One chorus is "Giorno per Giorno"-- that is how life is- day by day. In the moment.

Am I rambling a bit ?

Got an appointment with my therapist tomorrow morning.

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One final thought . . .

Nothing is more responsible for the good old days than a bad memory.

Franklin Pierce Adams

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