Nostalgia

Nostalgia is a thing of the past.

I say that at the risk of sounding like Yogi Berra. Sorta like "It ain't over ‘‘til it's over," or "when you come to a fork in the road, take it."

But pholks, I have been giving this phrase a lot of serious thought and the more I contemplate it, the more convinced I am that it has considerable merit.

Basically, today's culture and technology are changing everyday. What is new today, is outdated in less than a year. There is nothing to be nostalgic about. It will get worse faster than anyone who can remember Jack Robinson can say Jack Robinson. Now many of you remember that one.

Reading and talking about the old days is a common past time for most adults today. But what will the current generations have to remember? The times they are a-changing. And changing so fast there is going to be nothing to be nostalgic about. That's my point and I'm sticking to it.

One reason I have been giving this point of view so much thought recently is that I've been reading "Reminisce", a monthly magazine which bills itself as "The Magazine That Brings Back More Good Times."

Woodlake residents Don and Kathy Card subscribe to the publication and have been passing it along to others, including me. The "handing over" of the latest edition usually occurs at the local coffee shop which, of course, generates some spirited discussions among "the guys" thumbing though the publication during the morning bull sessions.

Adding to my belief that "Nostalgia is a thing of the past" are the subjects covered in each issue of this enjoyable magazine.

For instance, the February, 2004 issue contains features entitled "My Favorite Radio Memories," a three-page spread featuring the 1935 Sears catalog and a story entitled "Remember The House Out Back?" which, of course, features a half dozen or so short stories and some pictures of outdoor toilets.

I cite examples of several of these features to illustrate what the term nostalgia means. First is an excerpt from the radio memories page:

"Going The Distance" is a short story from a Korean Was veteran, a Marine who grew up in Long Island, New York and as a teenager faithfully listened to the Ted Brown Show from New York City. After returning from Korea he wrote a card to the radio host whose program was still on the air. He told of missing the show and all the top hits from 1951.

"A few days later, Ted read my card over the air and then played all the most popular tunes from l951 for me. He dedicated the program to the men still fighting in Korea."

Then there was the letter from one of two brothers who in 1940 never missed "Lone Ranger" broadcasts. Their dad bought each of them a cowboy outfit just before one broadcast.

The boys were so excited their mother let them wear those outfits every time they listened to the masked man's tales.

Well pholks, I admit I don't listen to a great variety of radio programs these days, but I think it would be hard for many of todays youngsters to find something on the radio which would capture their attention and loyalty the way the "Lone Ranger"or any of his fellow radio heroes did.

And maybe l'm wrong, but I think it is not too likely that any of today's catalogs will be looked at 50 or 60 years from now, the way we look at the 1935 Sears book which shows cotton outing flannel, standard quality, 36 inches wide, selling for 11 cents per yard, or "Tough Guy "quality knickers for $1.48 or how about a tractor disc harrow for $51 "cash and up" with a required $5 down. And lets not forget the "Wonder Value Cotton Frocks which were billed as "striking wash fast prints smartly styled-fully cut for 74 cents each with some others selling for 59 cents each.

All the stories about outhouse experiences were entertaining. The best, I think, was the one entitled "Open Door Policy." It was from a Missouri resident who recalls an experience in 1938 on the family ranch in the Oklahoma Panhandle. The 10-year-old had just finished feeding the animals and unharnessing the team of mules. When nature called the youngster turned the mules loose and ran for the outhouse.

"It was bitter cold and sleeting. I closed the door and had just settled down when I heard a bump. The mules had backed up to the front of the outhouse to get out of the sleet."

Well, despite pushing on the door, the 10-year old could not get the door open and the storm was so fierce that hollering for help was of no use

"I was finally able to kick some side boards loose and crawl out. From that day on, I left the door open"

Pholks, although there certainly some areas of our country where outhouses are still the only way to go, I think the current generations are going to be hard pressed to come up with true stories about the "Outhouse". In fact, there will be very few who even know what one is––or was––and what it was for.

One last point.

I think it would be rare 40 to 50 years from now to find someone who can look at a picture in a book or magazine––if they still exist––and even on a website and immediately identify a 2004 Chevy Impala, or a 2001 Honda Accord or a 2003 Dodge Strata.

Maybe I'm wrong about nostalgia being a thing of the past. But for damned sure it's going to be a lot less phun.

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