Category Archives: nostalgia

On the good old days

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Today, nostalgia is an industry–books, movies, theme parks, television–anything that will evoke a time gone by when we thought everything was golden, that everything was better. Of course, our memories play tricks on us. Those “good old days” where perhaps only good because we were all so young, and it seemed like we could do anything–climb mountains, swim oceans, slay dragons, solve differential equations, resolve the enigma of the Sphinx. We were thin and energetic, full of vim, vigor, and vitriol, and we could eat anything and not put on a pound.Yet we were also inexperienced, foolish, and innocent. I remember my trip to Mallorca almost thirty-four years ago as if it were yesterday, but when I look at that picture of that guy who I used to be, I haven’t the slightest clue as to who he really was. Those days were good because we were not yet cynical and sad, disillusioned or unhappy. We had plans, a future. Life, however, seldom cooperates and gets in the way of the best laid plans a person can make. How is it possible that all of that time has passed in the blinking of an eye? Life is life, and we live it a day at a time, working, studying, eating, cleaning, picking up, exploring, singing, planning, loving, traveling, arriving, and then we start all over again, and so on. Life will not be better when the week is over, or when we get our next promotion, or when we get married, or when we get a new job. Life is happening every day whether you care to notice or not. Philosopher, poets, artists, have been telling us this with every new thing they create, but we fall victim to our own distractions and worry about when our lives are really going to start, or we obsess about a past that never existed in the first place. Perhaps the best thing to do with the past is remember it, but not idealize it. The past is an unknown landscape that exists only as a construction of our imaginations and our desire to be happy once more. If you go there too often, you will eventually crash in the present, bitter and tired. I prefer to remember the good old days as just that, the good old days, and some of it was very, very good.

On the good old days

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Today, nostalgia is an industry–books, movies, theme parks, television–anything that will evoke a time gone by when we thought everything was golden, that everything was better. Of course, our memories play tricks on us. Those “good old days” where perhaps only good because we were all so young, and it seemed like we could do anything–climb mountains, swim oceans, slay dragons, solve differential equations, resolve the enigma of the Sphinx. We were thin and energetic, full of vim, vigor, and vitriol, and we could eat anything and not put on a pound.Yet we were also inexperienced, foolish, and innocent. I remember my trip to Mallorca almost thirty-four years ago as if it were yesterday, but when I look at that picture of that guy who I used to be, I haven’t the slightest clue as to who he really was. Those days were good because we were not yet cynical and sad, disillusioned or unhappy. We had plans, a future. Life, however, seldom cooperates and gets in the way of the best laid plans a person can make. How is it possible that all of that time has passed in the blinking of an eye? Life is life, and we live it a day at a time, working, studying, eating, cleaning, picking up, exploring, singing, planning, loving, traveling, arriving, and then we start all over again, and so on. Life will not be better when the week is over, or when we get our next promotion, or when we get married, or when we get a new job. Life is happening every day whether you care to notice or not. Philosopher, poets, artists, have been telling us this with every new thing they create, but we fall victim to our own distractions and worry about when our lives are really going to start, or we obsess about a past that never existed in the first place. Perhaps the best thing to do with the past is remember it, but not idealize it. The past is an unknown landscape that exists only as a construction of our imaginations and our desire to be happy once more. If you go there too often, you will eventually crash in the present, bitter and tired. I prefer to remember the good old days as just that, the good old days, and some of it was very, very good.

On butter

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What can one say about butter that is not self-serving rationalization for indulging in the richest food on the planet, except for the fat around a cow’s liver? I, for one, love butter, but I think that this is a relationship that is best left alone. Overindulgence in butter is the road to perdition in many ways–cholesterol, heart disease, obesity, hypertension. Yet, I won’t put oleo on my toast because using a petroleum product would be worse. You see, butter has that taste that just sucks you in and hypnotizes your taste buds and seduces your good judgement. You ever sauté garlic in butter? Maybe throw in a few over-sized shrimp, a pinch of hot red pepper and a quarter cup of white wine? You’d know if you had. Butter is a synecdoche for all of our overindulgence and overeating, and butter stands out as a symbol of our own success which may be our very undoing. In itself, there is nothing wrong with eating some butter. I’m from a dairy state, Minnesota, where the local denizens having been consuming dairy products for over a century and a half, and the only long-lasting result is extended life-spans. We have collectively stopped smoking, and although we still drink a bit and carry around an extra pound or two, we are pretty healthy in spite of the butter we consume. What would pancakes be without butter? What would chocolate frosting be without butter? Lumpy and tasteless. Take away their butter and people would stop making toast and life would cease to have meaning. Can you really eat lobster without a nice butter sauce to dip it in? Chicken fried in butter is much better than chicken fried in mystery oil. Yet butter gets a bad reputation because of all that juicy cholesterol. I often wonder if it might be less the cholesterol we consume and more our own inactivity which hurts us. So getting off the couch and into the wide open spaces is more important than skimping on the butter for our bagel.

On January

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The first month of the year is also the coldest month of the year in the northern hemisphere. This is even more true as a frigid arctic vortex spirals out of northern Canada and crawls into the midwest with unbelievably cold temperatures. Between the mean-spirited arctic wind, the cruel sub-zero temperatures, and the relentlessly ironic snow, a person might make plans to move to Arizona sometime in the very near future, if not yesterday. Living in the middle of a January winter is a challenge, but is it a challenge everyone wants to face? Since I now live in Texas, I don’t have to deal with winter. Perhaps it will be a little chilly tonight, but what’s one night compared to ninety nights of cold, black ice? I totally understand neighbors here in Texas who have vowed to never live in ice and snow again–they hate it. Yet, there is beauty in winter, and I know many people who just laugh in the face of sub-zero temperatures and endless drifts of snow as trivial circumstances that defeat only the weakest of minds. Are they sturdy or foolhardy? I couldn’t say, but I see the beauty in having four seasons–you really learn to appreciate the warm sun in spring, and frosty nights of October. Change is good, invigorating, makes you feel alive. I see January as just another challenge, no better or worse than 105F in the shade in central Texas in August.

On January

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The first month of the year is also the coldest month of the year in the northern hemisphere. This is even more true as a frigid arctic vortex spirals out of northern Canada and crawls into the midwest with unbelievably cold temperatures. Between the mean-spirited arctic wind, the cruel sub-zero temperatures, and the relentlessly ironic snow, a person might make plans to move to Arizona sometime in the very near future, if not yesterday. Living in the middle of a January winter is a challenge, but is it a challenge everyone wants to face? Since I now live in Texas, I don’t have to deal with winter. Perhaps it will be a little chilly tonight, but what’s one night compared to ninety nights of cold, black ice? I totally understand neighbors here in Texas who have vowed to never live in ice and snow again–they hate it. Yet, there is beauty in winter, and I know many people who just laugh in the face of sub-zero temperatures and endless drifts of snow as trivial circumstances that defeat only the weakest of minds. Are they sturdy or foolhardy? I couldn’t say, but I see the beauty in having four seasons–you really learn to appreciate the warm sun in spring, and frosty nights of October. Change is good, invigorating, makes you feel alive. I see January as just another challenge, no better or worse than 105F in the shade in central Texas in August.

On walking in the cold rain

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Walking in the cold rain today between tasks gave me the opportunity to cool off, collect my thoughts, ponder the week that was just ending. December is a strange time, filled with change, the end of a semester, people leaving, some dying, others moving on, still others are new on the scene. Perhaps no other month is filled the transitions that December brings, and today’s cold rain gave me pause to think about those who had just left and those who are just arriving. The cold rain fell on both the just and the unjust alike today, and on the just plain tired as well. The students scurried to their exams, some going to their final final exams, graduating in just over a week–they too are in transition in the cold and rain. The cold and rain are cloaked in nostalgia, the same now as thirty years ago, or maybe even fifty years ago as I head into class, kindergarten, wearing a corduroy coat and a hat, mittens. The cold and rain span a half century of memories that seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye. The cold and rain are the same now as they were then, comforting in the sense that although I have changed, the rain has not. The cold keeps the mind sharp, the senses wide open, the heart warm, and the nose cold. The passage of time is illusory, and although the calendar tells me that time is passing, I know that time and calendars are only arbitrary and illusory social constructions without meaning. Only the cold rain is real.

On walking in the cold rain

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Walking in the cold rain today between tasks gave me the opportunity to cool off, collect my thoughts, ponder the week that was just ending. December is a strange time, filled with change, the end of a semester, people leaving, some dying, others moving on, still others are new on the scene. Perhaps no other month is filled the transitions that December brings, and today’s cold rain gave me pause to think about those who had just left and those who are just arriving. The cold rain fell on both the just and the unjust alike today, and on the just plain tired as well. The students scurried to their exams, some going to their final final exams, graduating in just over a week–they too are in transition in the cold and rain. The cold and rain are cloaked in nostalgia, the same now as thirty years ago, or maybe even fifty years ago as I head into class, kindergarten, wearing a corduroy coat and a hat, mittens. The cold and rain span a half century of memories that seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye. The cold and rain are the same now as they were then, comforting in the sense that although I have changed, the rain has not. The cold keeps the mind sharp, the senses wide open, the heart warm, and the nose cold. The passage of time is illusory, and although the calendar tells me that time is passing, I know that time and calendars are only arbitrary and illusory social constructions without meaning. Only the cold rain is real.

On a hypothetical snow day

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It is the eternal dream of all children, old and young, to get a day off from work and school because of bad winter weather. No, I don’t expect a foot of snow tomorrow, but it could ice up really good overnight which would make driving prohibitive, or at least very dangerous. Driving in snow isn’t easy, and you can slide around a bit, but driving on ice, well, just isn’t possible. If you have no friction between wheel and road, you don’t have any driving either–you just have lots of sliding, and sliding is bad in a two ton vehicle. The dream of a day off from the regular grind is more tantalizing than finding free money because even if you find free money, you still have to do something to enjoy it. A snow day is enjoyed by doing nothing more than staying home. You don’t have to get dressed, you can drink a second cup of coffee, you might take a nap or even read a book–watch an old movie, maybe. The hustle and bustle of December is stressful, but a snow day is a de-stressor, if such a thing exists. You can be completely passive to enjoy a snow day. No meetings, no classes, no problems, nothing to turn in, and since tomorrow is Friday, we would get a long weekend. This is way too good to be true. The freezing rain just hangs off to the west, shutting everything down in its path, but the truth is, nothing is falling in Waco. Oh, there’s a fine mist out there, but the ground is warm and the roads are still passable, so I suspect that my dream will not come true. Yet, wouldn’t it be lovely to get an extra day of vacation right when you most need it?

On a hypothetical snow day

Posted on by

It is the eternal dream of all children, old and young, to get a day off from work and school because of bad winter weather. No, I don’t expect a foot of snow tomorrow, but it could ice up really good overnight which would make driving prohibitive, or at least very dangerous. Driving in snow isn’t easy, and you can slide around a bit, but driving on ice, well, just isn’t possible. If you have no friction between wheel and road, you don’t have any driving either–you just have lots of sliding, and sliding is bad in a two ton vehicle. The dream of a day off from the regular grind is more tantalizing than finding free money because even if you find free money, you still have to do something to enjoy it. A snow day is enjoyed by doing nothing more than staying home. You don’t have to get dressed, you can drink a second cup of coffee, you might take a nap or even read a book–watch an old movie, maybe. The hustle and bustle of December is stressful, but a snow day is a de-stressor, if such a thing exists. You can be completely passive to enjoy a snow day. No meetings, no classes, no problems, nothing to turn in, and since tomorrow is Friday, we would get a long weekend. This is way too good to be true. The freezing rain just hangs off to the west, shutting everything down in its path, but the truth is, nothing is falling in Waco. Oh, there’s a fine mist out there, but the ground is warm and the roads are still passable, so I suspect that my dream will not come true. Yet, wouldn’t it be lovely to get an extra day of vacation right when you most need it?