As I Recall

(and quite clearly . . .)

At first I thought I must be getting old,

because it seemed to me that the sun was not shining the same way it used to.  My memory tells me the sun was not quite as harsh in yesteryears, a bit more yellowish, perhaps.  Oh, to be sure, it still burnt my skin back then, but it did not seem to be as severe as today’s sun.  Not quite so unholy.

It was and is the source of biological life in our “solar” system, and days were still hot in the old days before the changes came.  A cool breeze was always welcome on a hot summer’s day, and all summers were hot, of course.  But they were different, too.  And the days seemed longer.  “Ah, you must be getting old.” 

No, it isn’t that. The sun really did shine differently, and the days really were longer.  They were very long, and a year took a long time.  It was hard to remember on January 1st what you did the previous January 1st.  Other than celebrate.  We celebrated the new year because it was new, and while new could be scary, new was good, too.  It was full of endless possibilities.  Now there is no more new.

I remember eating an orange as a child.

It was so fresh and so vibrant and so bursting with delicious flavor—bursting with the sun.  And then one day, the oranges changed.  The color was a little different.  When you peeled it, the inside had some strange little growth at the top of the orange, as if there were small sections growing on top of the larger sections, like an orange inside of an orange.  They didn’t used to be like that.  And the taste, the delicious taste, was gone.  And it never came back.

I didn’t think too much of it at the time, although through the many years I have missed the real oranges.  And now all food is becoming more and more the same.  Flavor is lost.  Color is lost.  Lushness is lost.  It all conforms, and “natural flavor” is added.  It is bland, and we must excite our taste buds with “spices.”  And the carrots have an underlying taste of mold.  I taste it.  I know what I taste.  But they once were sweet.

Just like the buildings, the beautiful old buildings.

They’ve torn down so many of them now.  There were buildings that had marble staircases and floors with balconies and turrets and spires.  And you could smell the old wood, and the windows were majestic.  Most of them are gone now, and new box-like buildings were built in their place.  Then those were torn down and rebuilt.  That’s what they keep doing now.  They tear down the paper buildings and houses and then rebuild new paper buildings and houses.  “Ah, you must be getting old.”

Nothing is built to last anymore because there isn’t any money in that.  Actually, there isn’t any money anymore, either.  There was a time it really meant something.  Now it isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.  And people roll their eyes if they’re standing in line behind you and you are paying for things with the pieces of paper.  Because plastic chips now contain the units of nothingness.  And isn’t that more convenient?  To have all of your nothing in one spot?

I had a hamster once.

It was a long time ago.  He happily ran on his wheel.  He ran so fast—that thing flew!  And he seemed so happy, running and skipping along.  Then he would hop off, eat some food, and then go and run again.  I was so glad I had the foresight to put that wheel in his cage, so he could get some exercise and be healthy.  Because, you know, living in a cage isn’t very fun, I’m told.  It’s a good thing he never found out.  When he died, I gently tossed him into the ocean for a burial at sea.  But a seagull swooped down and stole him away.

As I recall, there weren’t many ticks in those days, not like today.  Also, they didn’t carry terrible diseases as we are told the ticks of today carry.  You can go and get your blood tested, and if you’re feeling awful enough and they have no other explanation (which they usually don’t), the tests will come back as positive for Lyme disease.  Well, you were warned not to go out into nature, weren’t you?  Not directly, of course, because that might make you think.  Nothing is direct anymore.

Flowers were prettier, too.  In the old days under the old sun, we didn’t have “fluorescent colors” in our clothing.  So when you saw what amounted to a fluorescent color in a flower, it almost knocked you over.  The brilliance was uncanny!  Oh, how the hungry eyes searched them out eagerly every spring.  What a treat!

I also remember—getting back to food,

I must be hungry—that meals truly satisfied back in the day.  And they satisfied a lot more than taste.  After a good meal, you felt really good.  I mean really good.  There was a sense of oneness and wholeness.  There was a connection to the world, and you knew you were part of it.  Now it’s just about taste sensations.  Although, if you have the right “app,” you can find out exactly how many empty calories are in each and every thing you shovel into your mouth.  With a shovel, you do it.  “Ah, you must be getting old.”

And there were picnics in parks and long, long days of children running and playing and adults grilling food and drinking and gossiping, and drinking some more.  But it was all good, and really, it was a great deal of fun.  When you came home from a day like that, you were so incredibly tired.  But remember that those were different days under a different sun on a different earth that traveled much slower.  Now, you barely get to a place and it is time to think about how you will pack up, about strategic exits through grueling traffic.

People used to have butterfly collections,

and no one hated them for it.  There were also lots of Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts.  High on the list of their lessons was morality.  In fact, if you are lucky enough to have the old paper books of the scouts from many decades ago, you could read on the clumsy paper-not-plastic about morality.  It was number one—absolutely number one.  Now emotions are number one, especially the inability to control them.  And political correctness.  Especially if it will start the downward spiral of destruction.

I am not fooled.

I know what I know.  My memory is not faulty or warped.  In fact, it is crystal-clear, much clearer than what passes for today’s “memories.”  Better take a selfie or you’ll forget.  But what will you forget, anyway?  There has to be something worth remembering.  I wish I could give you one of those oranges.

“Ah, you must be getting old.”  I am getting older every day, it’s true, but I am not as old as I used to be.

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