A Wave of Nostalgia

One of the very best things about a vacation is eating out....it is also one of the worst things. On a recent time away we must have hit half the restaurants on the east coast. I'm pretty sure we ate our combined weight in sea food and deep fried critters, which we washed down with drinks bearing cutsey-pootsie names and horrendous price tags.  It's our vacation tradition.

It seems to me the thing restaurants in the Sunbelt share is the choice of background music. There are only two types; reggae and sixties music. If your head isn't bobbing to the beat of the steel drums you are destined to relive the 60's with the Beach Boys. The sixties music is so well enforced that you simply cannot escape it.  As we patiently waited for a table in one establishment a man was overcome by an overdose of "Help Me Rhonda...help, help me Rhonda...." and had to be taken away by ambulance.  It was a long vacation....I've seen things.  

The marketing gurus understand a large portion of the buying public in Florida remembers the 1960's, so the overwhelming devotion to nostalgia isn't confined to just the music.  In so many restaurants, chains and local, the walls are covered with, for lack of a better term, old stuff.  License plates, old tin containers, children's toys, album covers and an impressive number of '57 Chevy car parts seem to be popular decorating items.  There are also an inordinate number of life sized pirate statues, all strategically surrounded by speakers blaring one of only four 60's songs allotted to each restaurant.  This constant assault on the senses has made me wonder what people will be looking at, and listening to, on vacations years and years down the road...........

It's 2065 and we've finally arrived in Sun City, our favorite spot at the sea shore.  We've come in January to see the ocean before the heat converts it to its normal gelatinous state.  Industrial chemicals and waste have made the water unusable and impassable, except for huge transport vehicles that hover over surface. Nothing edible can be taken from the water, even during the liquid times of year.  Still, we are looking forward to enjoying the artificially produced "sea food".

Another reason our family unit likes to come to Sun City in January is for the races.  What fun it is during "Unsustainable Energy Race Week", when we get to see old cars, trucks and motor bikes from the turn of the century run on the track at Daytona.  During this week the vehicles that ran on combustible fuels are permitted to be shown and raced; it's fascinating to see how our great grandparents got from place to place.  Personally, we cannot comprehend being confined in such a small thing for hours on end!  Give me the transport tubes any day, even if your ears ring for an hour after you get where you're going.

Meals are a special treat for us when we visit the seaside.  We always chow down on lobster capsules, beef-like pastes and crunchy compressed vegetable wafers.  From time to time we invest in a bottle of delightful water....it's a splurge we only make on vacation.  Someone told me water is delightful when it's been chilled, so we will try that this year.

One of our favorite restaurants here in Sun City is "Surrogate Mother's Kitchen".

The cheery nostalgic decor features historical items that everyone can identify with.  In one area you'll see a large shelf displaying a collection of computer towers.  It’s surrounded by an artful grouping of hand held cell phones, the type used before chips were implanted.   Everyone loves to watch the wall of old computer screens, still in good working order after all these years.  They show a constant loop of things that have become extinct.  Green trees in the wild, clear water running from a metallic kitchen tap in a private home, old fashioned washing machines sloshing away and sail boats out on water that is truly liquid and seemingly clear.  It almost makes one wish for the good old days.  From time to time an old time car or delivery truck will lumber across a screen.....we laugh and laugh.

In the front lobby of the restaurant there is a sealed case of items made of paper!  In case you didn’t know, years ago people used paper for cleaning and eating.  They also drank various liquids from plastic bottles, and were allowed to throw this stuff away anywhere they chose!  What a strange and confusing world it must have been.  To explain these destructive rituals we've rented the ear bud lecture series for our singly permitted child, Jaka. When our child comes of age, and decides his/her sexual identity, it will be important to know about these things to insure the next generation won't make the same mistakes our ancestors did.

As our clinically reproduced imitation seafood is delivered by the service drone, we can't help but be swept back to a simpler life listening to old time music by Kanye West, Jay-Z and Lady Ga-Ga.  Now those were great singers and role models!  Enjoying the music, I experienced a moment of sadness as I remembered how our much loved leader, President Ga-Ga, died in office just five years ago.  Her passing, from injuries sustained during the filming of a political music video, was a national tragedy.  

This vacation trip has been such a wonderful time away from the grinding ten hour work week;  I think we may apply for a permit to return to this area again next year.  The excitement of Race Week and seeing the ocean actually move is truly worth the money.

                                              Life is Good

Listen Closely....

I started my morning by treating myself to a luxurious McDonald’s egg white/English muffin sandwich and a plastic bottle of milk.  Something sticky oozed from one side of the paper wrapped sandwich.  While I’m assuming it was some kind of imitation cheese or something,  I refused to ask.

Anyway, one of the best things to do when you find yourself in a McDonald’s early in the morning is eavesdrop on the conversations that bounce around you.  As I sat looking at my iPad I was actually paying more attention to the conversation the four older men were having at the table beside me.

Let me say first that the reason all of us ended up in a McDonalds early in the morning is because we were all obviously retired.   These guys were older than I, but then I’m not exactly looking for the 20 year warranty on things I purchase these days, either.

When I first became aware of their conversation it was about cars, and tires, and how the guy four condos down tries to impress everyone with his car, even though it’s not a Cadillac.  Much to the chagrin of the four fellas discussing him, it seems the guy just put a “pretend” tire on the back of his car to jazz it up.  “And”, the one fella leaned in to say, “He bought the thing at a garage sale”.  They all nodded knowingly.

Eventually the group tired of bashing the guy from four condos down and the conversation turned to women.  One guy in a plaid shirt and a bad comb over shared the fact that he had been on a first date with a lady, and he was looking forward to seeing her again.  The guy on his left shook his head from side to side and intoned, “You’d be better of getting a job to keep you busy.”   Plaid shirt took a lot of abuse from his friends, and I was hard pressed to keep from choking on my egg white sandwich as it began to sound more like a locker room full of sophomore boys.

Slurping down the last of my plastic jug of white milk, I gathered my things and headed to the door.  I gave a last glance over the late 70’s/early 80’s group of men as I exited.  While it’s not polite to eavesdrop on conversations, I’m glad I did. 

I’m passing this on to those of you who are taking care of elderly parents.  Hearing these fellas chiding one another just reinforced what I learned as I helped my own parents during their last years.  We age outside, but we do not change inside. 

If you are caring for an elderly female, remember she is still a woman, an elderly man still a man.  Recently I was deleting some pictures from my phone when I found one from my daughter.  One day last August she spent the afternoon with her grandmother.  At the end of the day she sent a picture of mom with the caption, ‘Our hair is combed, our nails are done, and we are ready for the day!’  Mom sat smiling in her recliner, looking as if some first class primping had made her day.  I remember she told me about it many times over the next days. 

Always try to remember whether your loved one is still living alone or in a nursing home, they’re still the same person inside their weathered exterior.  Why should it be any less acceptable for a 75 year old to be excited about a second date than a twenty year old?  I gave myself a mental kick for being ‘amused’ at the conversation.

I don’t believe the need to be loved and accepted has an end date.  On the other hand, perhaps it does…it expires when we do.

                                                               Life is Good

Having a Kodak moment

Since my mom’s death organizing has taken on a new meaning.   Certainly it is part and parcel of “I don’t want my children to have to do this”, but it’s more than that.   It has slowly dawned on me that I’m the last one standing.   If I don’t get some of the (literally) hundreds of photos in order and labeled with the names of the subjects, much of my children’s family history will disappear when I do.

My goal is to create an electronic set of all pictures for each of my kids so I can pass the actual pictures, clippings, etc. on to people who would appreciate having them.  My mom kept everything, so I have newspaper clippings, photographs, even funeral cards, that might add to someone else’s family history. 

And so it was with respect for today’s technology and an honest understanding of my un-technical nature (I am the family test-dummy)  that I set out to find a way to handle these photos.   I looked at iPhone/iPad software…too work intensive to do these one at a time.   I checked out chute fed photo scanners…financially impractical. There is a company to whom you can send the whole lot and they scan them and return them to you on a nice, silver disc.  My own deeply held beliefs about Murphy’s Law keep me from trusting these cherished photos to the US Postal Service.

Finally my son Brian, the family keeper of technical knowledge, located a little scanner on line called a Doxie.  For just about a hundred dollars he picked up this handy gadget that is simple enough for me to operate (the biggest consideration) and makes the scanning process a breeze.  I’ve scanned three hundred photos so far, and now I am in the process of learning the software to see just how much editing capabilities it might have.   So far I’m impressed!

This project will go on for months in my spare time. By turns I’ve dissolved into giggles and tears as I go through mom’s old photos.  I am touched by the young couple who became my parents; struck by my mom’s beauty and my dad’s good looks, not to mention his head of black, crisply curly hair.  Their obvious joy at being a newly married couple is evident in a photo of mom leap frogging over my dad’s shoulders.  There are pictures of their friends, young and strong and holding babies who grew up to be my friends.  Most of my parent’s friends are gone now, or in nursing homes. 

This little project reminds me that each person with whom we come in contact is a chapter in the story of our lives.  I’m at the point now where many of these chapters are now closed; I know how their stories ends.

There are rewards for doing this…I’ve discovered some real treasures in this box.  I truly do not believe I ever saw my dad’s mother smile.  She’s been gone a lot of years, but I’m betting this picture of her with a sweet smile on her face was a treasure to my dad.  I found pictures with mom’s scrawl, “my best buddy”, a cousin she talked about often.  Another photo simply bears the last name of a young soldier to whom she was engaged when she met my father.  I think that must have been tucked into this old box to be pulled out occasionally as an ‘I wonder what would have been if…’ photo.  I am curious about the conversation that might have started if I had only taken the time.

One photo of my dad, circa 1945, shows him sharply dressed in a top coat, the scarf knotted around his neck looks quite dashing; I didn’t think Pop ever owned any dressy clothes.  So much of my parent’s young lives is displayed as I go through these pictures; I wish I had gone through them years ago when I could have asked the questions that now tumble around in my head.

The older I get the more I believe in looking for the lesson in every event. This heap of old pictures left to me is a reminder that nothing lasts forever.   The lesson gleaned from that is spurring me to plan a family soup night that will include soup, home baked bread and old photos.  It’s high time we have this session before my children find themselves sitting alone with pictures that hold so many questions… and no one the provide the answers.

                                                       Life is Good