danemodsandy
Well-known member
Dear Luke:
You wrote on another thread that we should not live in the past, and as you've probably seen, that upset at least one member here. I think you should know why.
To begin with, it's obvious that you're very young, because if you were older, you'd know that there is no one past. Each of us has our own. And for each of us, our pasts are part of our present (which we do actually live in, thank you), and will become part of our futures.
Our pasts recede farther into the mists of time with each passing day. Living in the present takes nearly all of anyone's energy, and what little we have left over is often spent worrying about the future. Once you reach a certain age, you'll understand the value of a few talismans that remind you of where you've been. My own life began in the Truman era; it encompasses 78 rpm records, Hula Hoops, fallout shelters, JFK's election, JFK's assassination, the Twist, 8-tracks, Quick Draw McGraw, Colorforms, tail fins, Ford Mustangs, Woolworth's, the Summer of Love, I Love Lucy, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Rosemary Clooney, Grace Slick, Nixon's resignation, disco, Reaganomics and the AIDS epidemic. I remember a time when there were no such things as freeways, color TV, VCR's, DVD's, microwaves, electric can openers, digital timepieces, cell phones, MRI's, or computers.
Believe it or not, I enjoy remembering- need to remember- the way things were back then. That time, which was actually many different times, is part of who I am today. The tangible little bits and pieces of the past I've saved, or have managed to re-acquire after becoming separated from them, mean a lot to me.
Everyone here who is of a certain age started out just like you. We were all young. We all believed that we were the most with-it and modern and just plain damn wonderful generation ever. We worked all day, we boogied all night, and we have tales of love and lust your generation can only dream about.
But time caught up with us, as it will catch up with everyone of your generation. There will be wrinkles around your eyes. You will have trouble with workouts, then you'll give up because your joints hurt so much. Every morning's combing of your hair will become a little funeral; a look at your comb or brush will show you clearly that a few more follicles gave up the good fight during the night. And these things are the easy part. As you get even older, the inconveniences turn to indignities. There are pills for your cholesterol, your blood pressure, your angina. There are contacts, then glasses, then Lasik surgery, then more. Every day, you'll wonder what happened to your young, strong, supple self. When did it stop being that way? What day was it that the pains began? How did life become a series of doctor visits? How is it that the damn doctor is twenty years younger than you?
And you'll begin to miss people. The first few losses are ones you shrug off; when you're young, it's uncool to grieve too much. But one by one, the grandparents go, the aunts and uncles, the cousins, the parents. The loves go, too. Some leave and you never see them again. Some you'll lose to substance abuse, some to car accidents, some to AIDS. Twenty-three of my friends and the love of my life were lost to that vicious disease, and I am here to tell you that there were days I wished I had not been spared.
Because of all these things, and a few million more that there is not time to mention here, I enjoy and need a few pieces of the past with me. My life is passing more quickly than I ever believed could happen. I am middle-aged now; I will be old before I know it. My pieces of the past- my talismans, my runes- are what keep time from getting away from me. When I hold or use a piece of my past, time stands still just for a moment. I have the illusion of control over time, that I can stand still for a little while, instead of hurtling inexorably towards Forest Lawn.
Trust me, there will come a day in twenty or thirty years' time, when you will be at a yard sale, or estate sale, and you will find a talisman of your own. Perhaps it will be an iPhone, unbelievably clunky by the standards of 2028, heavy and primitive and capable of almost nothing anyone would want a phone to do. But you will be drawn to it, because you had just such a phone- or MP3 player, or whatever- and you will buy it. You will tuck it away where other people in your house won't see the odd object you've dragged in. You will clean it and polish it. Eventually you will become dissatisfied with the fact that it doesn't turn on, and you will search until you find one of the last few people who knows how to repair one. It will not matter to you that the technologies behind it no longer exist, outmoded and forgotten. It will not matter to you that you cannot actually use it. It will be enough that you have reconnected with something you had in your youth. You will scroll through the menus that now activate nothing, and you will smile at the memory of all the friends you called on just such a device.
That is what we are all about here, Luke. We have been through that which is yet to happen in your own life. Some of it has been wonderful, and some of it terrible, but we wish to remember it. We have our talismans, and we hope- know- that someday you will find yours. When you do, you will touch them, and hold them, and remember. You will remember so hard that you can smell the kitchen of the house you grew up in. You will hear your mother's voice calling you in to your favourite supper.
And you will sit down to the table of memory, and everyone you ever loved will be gathered around it, smiling, whole, and there for you forever.
You wrote on another thread that we should not live in the past, and as you've probably seen, that upset at least one member here. I think you should know why.
To begin with, it's obvious that you're very young, because if you were older, you'd know that there is no one past. Each of us has our own. And for each of us, our pasts are part of our present (which we do actually live in, thank you), and will become part of our futures.
Our pasts recede farther into the mists of time with each passing day. Living in the present takes nearly all of anyone's energy, and what little we have left over is often spent worrying about the future. Once you reach a certain age, you'll understand the value of a few talismans that remind you of where you've been. My own life began in the Truman era; it encompasses 78 rpm records, Hula Hoops, fallout shelters, JFK's election, JFK's assassination, the Twist, 8-tracks, Quick Draw McGraw, Colorforms, tail fins, Ford Mustangs, Woolworth's, the Summer of Love, I Love Lucy, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Rosemary Clooney, Grace Slick, Nixon's resignation, disco, Reaganomics and the AIDS epidemic. I remember a time when there were no such things as freeways, color TV, VCR's, DVD's, microwaves, electric can openers, digital timepieces, cell phones, MRI's, or computers.
Believe it or not, I enjoy remembering- need to remember- the way things were back then. That time, which was actually many different times, is part of who I am today. The tangible little bits and pieces of the past I've saved, or have managed to re-acquire after becoming separated from them, mean a lot to me.
Everyone here who is of a certain age started out just like you. We were all young. We all believed that we were the most with-it and modern and just plain damn wonderful generation ever. We worked all day, we boogied all night, and we have tales of love and lust your generation can only dream about.
But time caught up with us, as it will catch up with everyone of your generation. There will be wrinkles around your eyes. You will have trouble with workouts, then you'll give up because your joints hurt so much. Every morning's combing of your hair will become a little funeral; a look at your comb or brush will show you clearly that a few more follicles gave up the good fight during the night. And these things are the easy part. As you get even older, the inconveniences turn to indignities. There are pills for your cholesterol, your blood pressure, your angina. There are contacts, then glasses, then Lasik surgery, then more. Every day, you'll wonder what happened to your young, strong, supple self. When did it stop being that way? What day was it that the pains began? How did life become a series of doctor visits? How is it that the damn doctor is twenty years younger than you?
And you'll begin to miss people. The first few losses are ones you shrug off; when you're young, it's uncool to grieve too much. But one by one, the grandparents go, the aunts and uncles, the cousins, the parents. The loves go, too. Some leave and you never see them again. Some you'll lose to substance abuse, some to car accidents, some to AIDS. Twenty-three of my friends and the love of my life were lost to that vicious disease, and I am here to tell you that there were days I wished I had not been spared.
Because of all these things, and a few million more that there is not time to mention here, I enjoy and need a few pieces of the past with me. My life is passing more quickly than I ever believed could happen. I am middle-aged now; I will be old before I know it. My pieces of the past- my talismans, my runes- are what keep time from getting away from me. When I hold or use a piece of my past, time stands still just for a moment. I have the illusion of control over time, that I can stand still for a little while, instead of hurtling inexorably towards Forest Lawn.
Trust me, there will come a day in twenty or thirty years' time, when you will be at a yard sale, or estate sale, and you will find a talisman of your own. Perhaps it will be an iPhone, unbelievably clunky by the standards of 2028, heavy and primitive and capable of almost nothing anyone would want a phone to do. But you will be drawn to it, because you had just such a phone- or MP3 player, or whatever- and you will buy it. You will tuck it away where other people in your house won't see the odd object you've dragged in. You will clean it and polish it. Eventually you will become dissatisfied with the fact that it doesn't turn on, and you will search until you find one of the last few people who knows how to repair one. It will not matter to you that the technologies behind it no longer exist, outmoded and forgotten. It will not matter to you that you cannot actually use it. It will be enough that you have reconnected with something you had in your youth. You will scroll through the menus that now activate nothing, and you will smile at the memory of all the friends you called on just such a device.
That is what we are all about here, Luke. We have been through that which is yet to happen in your own life. Some of it has been wonderful, and some of it terrible, but we wish to remember it. We have our talismans, and we hope- know- that someday you will find yours. When you do, you will touch them, and hold them, and remember. You will remember so hard that you can smell the kitchen of the house you grew up in. You will hear your mother's voice calling you in to your favourite supper.
And you will sit down to the table of memory, and everyone you ever loved will be gathered around it, smiling, whole, and there for you forever.
