I’m Old Enough to Remember
The beginning of every good fairy tale takes us back to “Once upon a time”. Those words instantly bring feelings of adventure, curiosity, excitement—partly because experience has taught us to anticipate the unfolding of a great story. Looking back, the past is safe, even if the living of it was difficult in the moment. And of course, fairy tales contain the element of “is this possible?” “Can that be real?” But there is a sense of security in knowing that somehow, it all works out in the end.
We’re told that living in the past is unhealthy, but when we feel unhealthy living with the aches, pains, and sickness of older age, living in the present can be frightening and unpleasant, and the future doesn’t seem all that hopeful. So going back to “Once upon a time” can actually help us through our current stage of life like leaning on the companionship of an old and trusted friend or relationship. When looking at the world around us brings us to a longing for the “good ole days”, we question the hype spouting the benefits of progress. We can easily feel that “if it isn’t (or wasn’t) broken, why fix it?”
Don’t get me wrong, there are many improvements that I wouldn’t want to live without and things that can make getting through the declining years more bearable. But it’s also hard to see the shift that has brought about the decline and breakdown of society, as we distance ourselves from social interaction and connection, even when we’re sitting in the same room with each other.
I’m old enough to remember singing around the piano with family or friends for entertainment, or sitting around playing parlor games, or just simply visiting. I’m not old enough to remember sitting around a radio with family to listen to a host tell a story, but I am old enough to remember when our family bought our first television set. It was about the size of a small computer screen and was only in black and white pictures. As time passed, we advanced to a color television which was housed in a beautiful wood box creating a functional piece of furniture—a place to set a picture or decoration, as well as a dropping place for things that didn’t belong there, all of which had to be removed when it came time to do the weekly dusting.
Where once the family used to create music together, now we sat with our eyes glued to a screen, being entertained by strangers, and often arguing over who had ‘control’ of what we were viewing. There were only 4-6 channel options and only one program per channel at a time. The luxury of choosing from 150 channels and setting the machine to record what we want to watch at a later date and more convenient time was not even a thought in the minds of inventors and still wouldn’t be for many years to come. And we never would have even imagined that we could watch about anything we wanted at any time…at a price. But at WHAT price? At the time, if you wanted to watch something you had to consult the TV guide found in the newspaper and plan your life around that schedule. And there was no skipping through the commercials. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? But my siblings and I made a game out of who could guess the commercial first, so it wasn’t so bad. It was also a convenient time to run to the kitchen for a drink, or snacks, or take a potty break. If I wasn’t fast enough, I’d have to quietly ask, “what’d I miss”? when I rejoined the show and hope that someone could fill me in without us missing what was currently playing out on the screen. There was no pause, no rewind, it was truly living in the present.
It’s possible that my favorite part of The Andy Griffith Show was when Andy would be sitting on his front porch playing his guitar. People would pass by, and he knew most of them. Conversations would arise as he visited with town folk and visitors alike. I think those interactions played a significant part in my love for porches—whether in front, where we can view the activities of the neighborhood and engage in conversation with those who pass by or those who stop by, or on a back porch, where our view of activity might be more limited to the quiet watching of birds, butterflies, or the rising or setting of the sun—feeling peace, stillness, and oneness with nature and with God’s creations that we often don’t take time to enjoy.
I believe that the older we get the easier it becomes to realize the things that are most important to us. When maybe about all we can do is to sit and watch something—if our eyesight isn’t too diminished, or listen to beautiful things—if we can still hear, or think about times past when things were good—even if the details might not be especially accurate, it’s always nice to know there is a “Once upon a time” in our stories to reflect upon and share with others.