Glory Days

What is it about the past that it takes on a rosy glow for many people as they age? Was our past really so much better than our present? In my sixth decade I notice more and more people of my generation and older looking back longingly at the good old days. As I listen to those wistfully reliving their youth, it was a simpler time where everyone respected everyone else, crime was nearly non-existent, jobs plentiful in a soaring economy and the good times just went on and on. Their remembrance of their past is often contrasted to a perceived gloomy future riding on the heels of a problem ridden today.

Decades ago when my mother was close to my age, she remarked about an old friend wanting to get together to reminisce about the good old days. At the time I thought my mother was being a bit of a cynic as she went on to say she had no desire to relive the past. She didn’t believe it was all that wonderful. Today, I tend to agree with her but in a things are better today than they were in my youth sort of way. But, if people from my mother’s generation glorified the past as much as people from my generation, is this a phenomenon which occurs with each generation as we age or is each decade really better than the previous or each 100 years really better than the previous 100? I doubt 1914 was better than 2014. I doubt 1940 when my mother was a young woman was really better than 1980 when her friend wanted to revisit the good old days. Each moment in time is fraught with its problems and its excellence. So, why do we look back in fondness and yearning for the good old days?

As a baby boomer, when I look back to my youth, I remember social turmoil as minorities and women fought for their civil rights. I remember limited opportunities for women. When I entered the management training program at a local bank, I was told to my face both at work and by men and women in the community how I was taking a job away from a man with a family. Gee, I guess my husband and two kids aren’t a family. See, I can be cynical. I remember horrible diseases where there was no vaccine to spare child and parent from the specter of death or disability, including the dreaded polio, which I had at age 3 and managed to escape relatively unscathed. I remember a communist under every bed as we kids lined the school hallways scrunched down on the floor as air raid sirens blared a practice run in the shadow of the atom bomb threat. By the time I was 10 we didn’t line the hallways, but got under our desks as if that would save us. I remember seeing violence on the news every night as leaders were assassinated, Soviet tanks crossed borders, the civil rights movement erupted with bombs, tear gas and murders and the Vietnam War grew into a colossal loss of life. I remember an economy which unraveled as gas prices soared sending us into a long recession coupled with runaway inflation. Were there good times? Yes! There were great times. But, the 1950’s, 60’s and 70’s were also not as rosy as some portray those decades. So, why are some boomers putting on the rose-tinted glasses as they view this particular past?

I think Bruce Springsteen hit it out of the park with his song, “Glory Days”. All of the people he sang about longed for the days of their youth when they were riding high or life lay before them fresh, new and awaiting. Late teens and twenties seem to be the age most people gravitate to with their stories of good old days. For some, it may be early thirties. I’m one of those early thirty types. When I think about the past, there’s a time in my life starting at exactly age thirty where the entire world seemed to open up for me. It actually evokes a very pleasant feeling all warm and fuzzy, eternally rosy. When I think of this time, I get that warm feeling as my mind fills with wonderful memories. It was an exhilarating time of high success as my career took off. I jetted all over the country for my job. We made money, money and more money. Our kids took piano and ballet and played softball and basketball. They went to the best schools in the area. We went out to dinner at tony restaurants, were invited to parties where celebrities were also on the guest list, took vacations and belonged to local museums and art centers. We bought beautiful homes, cars and furniture and were what was known at the time as yuppies. The dreams and possibilities for our future seemed endless as we rode this huge euphoric wave of personal and material success. The pictures in my mind and the warm feeling filter out how stressed I was as I scrambled to meet the obligations of career, spouse, family and community with little or no time for me. In the end, it was a time when I went from soaring heights to nearly going down in flames. However, my filtered view of that time in my life doesn’t appear to be all that unusual.

As we age, it seems to me we have experienced plenty, enough to make us feel as if our moment in the sun is over. No more euphoric waves to ride. It’s akin to that mid-life moment when we say to ourselves, “Is this all there is?” But, as it is in that moment, so it is in this moment. The biggest challenge in retirement is finding activities which challenge us mentally, emotionally and physically. We can choose to be a bit jaded, cynical, worried about today and the future and seek comfort in our glory days. Or, we can choose to seek fresh, new horizons. It is up to us to fire the engines one more time and search for a reason to get out of bed every day, greeting the sun with excitement for the possibilities of today. While it is fun to reminisce and it is essential for passing on family history to the next generation or getting to know a new acquaintance, recognize the past for what it is, the past, with all the good memories, flaws and imperfections. Instead of reimagining the past, use your imagination and energy to create a glory day today.

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EXAGGERATIONS

Booted the kitties out of our bed last New Year’s Eve. This was a joint New Year’s resolution made by my husband, Martin, and me. So, after 5 years of sleeping on the edge of consciousness and feeling tired all day, we decided to bite the bullet, shut the door to our room at night and show some tough love to the three members of our furry family who slept in our bed. We love these little cats but 2 of the 3 spent a good part of the night laying on our feet or legs, snuggled up in our armpits or smothering us in our sleep. I would wake up in the night and want to turn over. But, we can’t disturb the little darling stretched across our chest with paws in face, now, can we? Often I’d just decide I was turning over anyway only to have Portia jump up and walk over my body from front to back until she figured out where my face was by which time I’d be wide awake and wishing I’d never moved. Trio likes to lay on our legs so she was a little easier to get around but, still, we didn’t spontaneously stretch out one moment and curl up the next lest we disturb the cat! And little Carmen (the baby cat) had her internal clock set for 5 a.m. No alarm clock needed at our house as she came meowing onto the bed licking Martin’s nose as if to say, “You’ve had enough sleep. Up and at ’em and get my breakfast first!”.

After talking about shutting them out for months or maybe even the last year, we decided enough was enough. We were taking back our queen sized bed and “the girls”, as we affectionately call them, would have to fend for themselves on the sofas or in the guest room. So January 1 we closed the door, I put in ear plugs and we settled in for what we thought would be a night of haunting, pleading cries outside our bedroom door. Hush! What’s that I hear? An occasional few seconds of meowing by our little Carmie? That’s it? As I pulled out my earplugs halfway through the night, I felt almost disappointed. Portia and Trio didn’t make so much as a “mew” and eventually Carmen quieted. It took a few nights for Carmen to stop altogether but all our worst fears of the girls being traumatized and our not being able to sleep anyway for the constant crying was nothing more than the imaginative over-exaggerations of our minds.

Our minds tend to do that, don’t they? Make things out to be worse than what reality unfolds to us. So we put off for 5 years, or sometimes forever, doing something we want to do or become or experience because we allow our mental wanderings to convince us all kinds of disastrous consequences await. Reality,as it turns out, is a good night’s sleep, rested days and three cats who share the guest bed, sofas and chairs. I get to dream again in restful REM sleep. Maybe happiness, maybe spirit lies in putting aside the self-doubts, the fears of failure, closing the door on the current situation and, instead, pursuing your dreams.