Rememberence


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any one on the board old enough to remember these times

marty

I grew up with practical grandparents who had been frightened by the Great Depression in the 1930's. A grandmother, God love her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was the original recycle queen, before they had a Name for it.. A grandfather who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones.

Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived barely a wave away. I can see them now, Grandpa in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Grandma in a house dress, lawn mower in one hand, and dish-towel in the other. It was the time for fixing things: a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep.

It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that repairing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.

But then my grandfather died, and on that clear fall night, in the warmth of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't any more.

Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away...never to return. So... While we have it.. it's best we love it... And care for it... And fix it when it's broken..... And heal it when it's sick.

This is true... For marriage... And old cars... And children with bad report cards..... And dogs and cats with bad hips.... And aging parents.... And grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some things we keep Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.

There are just some things that make life important, like people we know who are special... And so, we keep them close!

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I remember those times. Nothing ever got tossed unless it was so far gone there wasn't nothing left.

I think That those were in some ways, far better then now days. You knew what you had, it might not have been allot. But it was well cared for.

How does the song go....

Those were the days my friend,

we thought they'd never end.

We'd sing and dance

fore ever and a day.

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some time i get nostalgic

thinking of the the days when there were

no neuclear eapons smart bombs

in my country all food came from the land

we didnt need sprays and all that shit

my dad grew plants in conjunction with vegies

which the bugs wouldnt go near

natural herbisides

funny thing

when i was growing up i never went to a doctor

now doctors are a big industery

and i help that industry

big biz changed all the

a quick buck

bugger the population

i presume the usa is no different from new zealand

marty

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I remember going to Grandma's farm every summer. Growing up in Chicago the farm was a WHOLE 'nother world to me. One distinct impression it made on me was, contrary to the usual impressions you might have if you have selective memory, it wasn't all sweetness and goodness ... It smelled! There were bugs! You had to KILL things if you wanted to eat! You had to MAKE things, like butter! Want a glass of water? Go outside and get to work pumping it from the well! Need to use the toilet? There's the outhouse! Warm bath? Only after you pumped the water, heated it, then poured it into a galvanized tub that was ... outside! Grandma had the look of someone who had toiled endlessly for decades under the harshest conditions (though she always had a big ol' bear hug and a slobbery kiss ready just when I needed one).

But there were also the endless miles of rolling hills, earthy fields, cicadas in the evening, dead silence and endless stars in the sky at night.

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