Old

I’m getting old. The signs are all there. I wear bifocals and hear better when I can see your mouth moving. My joints make noise when I stand up or sit down or just move around. I’m grateful when I get carded. A late night for me is staying up past the 10:00pm news.

I remember the original hip-huggers, bell bottoms, tie-dye shirts and VW Beetle. I grew up with Sunday dresses in a time when the older ladies still wore hats to church. I remember The Tonight Show before Jay Leno, when Johnny Carson was king and all three tv stations signed off at midnight with the national anthem.

I know where I was when Kennedy & Reagan were shot. I watched the Neil Armstrong walk on the moon. I listened to the Apollo 13 reentry BEFORE it was a movie. I watched the Watergate hearings that preempted EVERYTHING for weeks and I saw Richard Nixon’s resignation speech.

I know what it takes to be a true cowboy and wore western boots for years before Urban Cowboy made it popular. I talked on CB radios to take care of farm business before they become popular and then useless. My dad took us to HAM-fests where he and other local HAM radio operators practiced emergency drills “just in case” their skills were needed in a disaster situation. I remember party lines and rotary phones and asking the operator to connect a long distance call.

And I remember when promises were kept, vows were sacred and integrity was important. I witnessed my grandparents and my parents celebrate their Golden wedding anniversaries. They worked hard in life and in their marriages. There was an order to life: marriage and then children. Families were important, cherished and protected. The notion of abandoning family for some fleeting moment of excitement or happiness was not accepted.

Maybe it was a simpler time. Or maybe, we’ve allowed the profane to take hold and destroy our families just because it seems easier or more fun. Maybe it’s time to take a stand for integrity and morals. Maybe I’m not too old to do that!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s