Our gravel road.
Of the many things that seem to be lacking today, one of the saddest and probably most needed, is an outdoor childhood. That really encompasses so many things. Once again, as great as technology is and the ways it makes our lives easier, it also robs us of many incredible experiences and opportunities to stretch our own abilities and imaginations.
I can’t gauge this, seeing as I haven’t even been alive for that amount of years, but my Dad said this exact thing to me yesterday, “Forty years has gone by so fast.”
My parents’ 40th wedding anniversary is today. Yes, they’ve been married for that long. Continuously. To each other. I know, strange, right? They must be mutants or some of the kookiest people alive, because it seems so rare for people to actually stay married.
I’m not saying the times when people stayed together because divorce was a no-no, or people just stayed together because that’s what they did, should be brought back, but it’s more about the “throwaway” and “me me me” culture we live in now. Everyone wants instant results and no one wants to put the effort or work into . . . well, anything. For all of our technology, gadgets, quick fixes, and “hiring someone to do anything for us” society, the one area none of this really applies is to human emotions, relationships, and those deeper connections with another person. There is no “Successful Marriage” app for your phone (actually, there probably is, there’s an app for everything) that will make a marriage easy.
I want someone to surprise me in the kitchen with Sam Cooke’s “Bring It On Home To Me.” I want to silently move with someone to “And I Love You So” by Perry Como. I want Fred Astaire to serenade me with “Cheek to Cheek” while I sway with someone. I want to dance. More to the point, I want to slow dance.
If you’ve ever seen the movie Catch Me If You Can, you might recall the scene where Frank’s parents dance in the living room to Judy Garland singing “Embraceable You.” That is what I’m talking about.
The only partner dancing I’ve been privleged to partake in.
The best dancing I have done was with a little man. It was a tradition we had carried on for three-and-a-half years. He would run up to me on tip toes, arms stretched up, saying, “Boompa, Kimmie, boompa!” Boompa is what he called “our” song, “Papa Loves Mambo” by Perry Como. And you know, he’s the only man I’ve ever found who would dance with me to Perry Como. Hmph. He may have been a little man, but he was light years ahead of most grown men.
Outside of a spontaneous moment at home, I want to attend a dance. That may sound a bit juvenile, as if I’m waiting for Homecoming or the Prom, but I’m referring to those dances held in the community. Ones with a real band, not a DJ. Ones with tables to sit at having a drink and chatting with friends. A place where the songs range from those get-in-close songs to the pick-it-up-with-a-little-swing songs. These would be varying dances, the 1950s-60s to big bands, think Glenn Miller (Yes, you read that right, I said Glenn Miller!).
Crunching leaves, gentle breeze, warm sun, and birds chirping. This is what could comprise a glorious day having a picnic. Remember those?
*Photo by Graeme Weatherston
The idea of an “old-fashioned” picnic conjures the vision of people in their car, driving until they find a nice spot alongside the road to pull over and cop-a-squat. Picnics now are more the local park variety. Which is nice, don’t get me wrong, but a bit restrictive. No glass
Scene from Mad Men
bottles, no alcohol (come on, wine!), and too many other people around. Think Mad Men Season 2. Just don’t flip the trash off the blanket and leave it on the ground.
My nostalgia isn’t always fun and playful objects or a yearning for an era, sometimes it hits closer to the heart in a less inviting way. British singer Adele’s newest album includes a song called “Someone Like You.” While I have never been a particular fan of hers, this song has struck a chord with me (as I’m sure it has with multitudes of others). I posted this song (VH1 Unplugged) on Facebook several weeks ago, and since have seen various other friends posting it. It seems I can’t quite escape it. I’ve included a video of her performing it at the 2011 Brit Awards (Her emotion at the end is achingly beautiful). Her voice is beautiful and I enjoy her much more in this acoustic live environment other than what I have heard on her albums. But I digress. I sometimes like to wallow in my emotions (it makes for good artistic expression when I paint, and come to think of it, when I write) and this song leaves me dripping with inadequacy, foolish illusion, and a fleeting uneasiness. So I thought I’d resurrect something I wrote a few years ago (I’m also feeling a bit lazy), that sort of reminds me of this song. And I have no problem looking a little foolish over it. (I wear that hat quite well.) Humility for the sake of art . . . or something like that.
It can be said that living in the past is unhealthy, and in many respects I agree. But the past not only offers lessons learned and a path to how we came to be presently, but odds and ends of a different way of doing things, helping us decide how we want to establish our personal footing in the world, and glimpses of a lost connection with something outside of ourselves.
I am those dirty words: sentimental, idealistic, nostalgic. Aka: sappy, corny, kooky. (I embrace them all!) While I am all these things, I don’t (always) live in a dream world. The reality of contemporary times and everyday life are at the forefront. I do, however, like to incorporate my love of past relics, my yearning for a more regaled approach, and my pure enjoyment of using useful yet left behind objects into my life. Technology and modern conveniences are a part of our lives now, and most of us wouldn’t know how to function without them. They do make our lives easier, but I will gladly sacrifice a little convenience for the feeling of doing something myself, the latest trend for something I enjoy that maybe no one else does, and an easily produced object for a personal touch that alludes to something special. Continue reading
Lovely Shades of Nostalgia 