Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCXL

As a child, I used to love to listen to my grandparents as they would tell me about the "good old days." (Or is it supposed to be "good ole days?" I never really learned for sure which one is correct.) It never occurred to me to question exactly what period of time the good old days took place, so all I knew was they had ended some time before I came along. I felt cheated because I had been born much too late to be able to experience such a romantic period of history. After all, they got to ride in a horse drawn wagon everywhere they went, while we had to travel in a car. Besides that, they got to do fun things like pick cotton by hand, and chop firewood, yet my parents made me do such horrible chores as sitting on the porch shelling peas and butter beans. It was a disgrace, I tell you. That brings us back to our main question: When did the good old days take place? I can remember my parents laughing when my younger brother asked my dad if he was alive back in the old days, but I couldn't understand what was funny about it. I thought it was a legitimate question. Since I'm nearing the period of life where I can be referred to as a senior citizen, I've started giving some thought to the good old days and what I missed out on. One of the first things that comes to mind is if I had lived back in that period of time, I'd be dead by now. That thought takes some of the appeal away from the good old days. Then I started thinking about the things I've experienced that would seem to my grandparents like science fiction. For instance, there was one day not too long ago when I ate breakfast at my house in Louisiana, ate lunch in Salina, Kansas, and was back home again for dinner...all the same day. Just this morning, I participated in a conference call with colleagues from around the country, and when I would speak, my voice was heard by co-workers in practically every corner of the United States. Those are just two examples of things I've experienced that the people from the good old days couldn't even dream of. So...again I ask, when were the good old days? Let me tell you why my mind has been on this topic. Just a few nights ago, Lake, my six year old grandson, was spending the night at our house, and at bedtime, he asked, "Poppa, will you lie down with me and tell me a story before you go to bed?" "Sure," I replied, "What story do you want to hear?" He responded, "I like it when you tell me about when you were a little boy." That's when it occurred to me that, although he didn't use those exact terms, he was wanting to hear about the good old days. "That's it!" I thought. "Now I know the exact period of time that's known as 'the good old days.' It's any period of time in history, other than the present." You see, today is not one of the good old days. But when today becomes tomorrow, it will be, and the further we move away from today, the more it qualifies to be called a good old day. Today Lake is just a little boy in a great big world, but many years from now when I'm long gone and he has assumed the position I now hold as "Poppa," it will dawn on him that, although it doesn't seem like it at the time, this period of time we're experiencing right now will be the "good old days" for his offspring. I guess the words to that song are true after all: "These are the good old days." Preston