So... about those good old days

Did they really exist? The good old days, that is. I mean, I'll give you this. In the good old days, we were young, wild and free. Or at least, it felt that way. Well, for those if us who were born in the “right” place and descended from the “right” people, that is. Some of us weren't that lucky. I was one of the lucky ones. I see that now.

But while I was enjoying my youth in the good old days, many people were struggling. Some, because they were of a certain ethnicity. Others, simply because they were adults with responsibilities and with more awareness than I. I would imagine that being a mature adult in the good old days was very different than being a child or even a young adult.

In fact, I'm betting that adults in the good old days had every bit as much to be concerned about as we have today. OK, maybe, they were not quite as aware as today's adults. I suppose that's why they look at the past we fondness. They were somewhat sheltered, weren't they? That allowed them to relax and enjoy life just a bit more when they did have a free moment to do so.

Now, let's talk about this awareness thing, shall we? In today's world, with advanced technology, we're so very connected. We're pretty much aware of just about anything that happens, everywhere, aren't we? Even in tiny countries we've never even heard of. We're aware of people we don't know. We're aware of their lives. We're aware of their struggles. We're aware of their tragedies. We're aware of their negative characteristics. But we hear very little about their goodness or their triumphs, don't we?

We see the world as an ugly place because that's how it's presented to us. Why is that? Well, folks, it's partially because tragedy sells. Pain sells. Heartbreak sells. Fear sells. It gets our immediate attention. Admittedly, though, we actually are facing some very real challenges the seriousness of which has been building up for a while now. You know, things like global warming, dead zones and other environmental issues.

But these things aren't believed by everyone, are they? That's because, unfortunately, it's not profitable to believe them, is it? In fact, working on these issues is expensive. Now, many of us know that the cost of believing in and solving these issues is well worth it. Because our very survival as a species depends on us doing so. Unfortunately, that group does not include those with the power to address them. They don't want them addressed. Because again, taking action against environmental issues is not considered profitable.

 Likewise, it is not profitable to discourage war. War is very profitable for the powers that be. Therefore, it behooves them to instill “patriotism” in the average citizen, even to the point of shaming them for having a preference for peace. Furthermore, they create an illusion of our superiority to people in other countries, which neatly provides the profit mongers with soldiers to fight their monetized battles for them. When most of the time, we're not actually going to war for peace or to conquer evil or fight injustice, we're going to war for profit or to obtain resources.

Now, let me be clear. I love my country. I love that I was lucky enough to be born here. I see that people in some other countries have struggles the like of which astound me. I also understand that the very capitalistic regime that seeks to make a profit from us, also benefits us.

But my friends, I must be honest, there are also countries where the powers that be don't lie to/brainwash their people who enjoy those benefits as well.

Incidentally, it would even appear that some countries have it better than we ever did. Yes, even in “the good old days” if there ever was such a thing. We're seeing that now, due to our increased awareness. And yet, some people cling to returning society to the way they feel it was in those good old days. I don't blame them. Do you? I mean, we have truly placed the “good old days” on a lofty pedestal, haven't we?

The problem is, though, they really weren't all that great for most people. Life is always difficult. It was then and it is now. It just seems better in the past because looking back always carries with it fond memories. The human brain is built to survive tragedy by leaving it in the past. Bad memories fade over time. Otherwise, we'd all go bonkers.

 I mean, think about it, when someone close to you dies that maybe you didn't really get along with, don't you try to remember the good times and forget the issues you had with them? Well, it's the same way with everything in life. Moving forward with fond remembrances of the past is perfectly natural. Add to that the subtle brainwashing inherent in every society, brainwashing designed to take us in a profitable direction and you get this Utopian-like idealistic view of the past.

But folks, our past was anything but perfect. If you examine it closely, you can even see the beginnings of what our society is today. You can see the roots of the purposeful manipulation. You can see the for profit corruption. And most certainly, you can see the hatred and bigotry that existed and is being allowed to exist today.

Hatred and fear for profit has always been a background theme in our society. Folks, it was common to hang people for the color of their skin right up until the 60's. My friends, we are being led to long for the good old days. It enables the powers that be to manipulate us and bend us to their will. It allows them to use and abuse us. It allows them to pull our strings in the direction they need this society to go in order to further stuff their pockets. They have us right where they want us. Compliant and obedient.

But that's not enough. They want our kids too. They want us to breed generations of warriors for them. They even sponsor and finance the books used to educate our children, not out of generosity, but because they have a vested, monetary interest in what our children believe. They need a never-ending supply of unaware, obedient, subservient people to fuel their mission. They need puppets.

Ironically, they teach us that democracy is superior. The problem is that what we have isn't a democracy. It never was. It's always been about making a profit for certain people. Yes, even in the “good old days” because the good old days never existed, my friends. They're just an illusion. There has always been corruption. There has always been discord. There has always been a hierarchy.

We just never noticed before.

And the moral of this story is, every era has it's delights and downfalls and I'm at peace with that. Probably because I choose to be a part of the positive end and not participate in the mass manipulation that has always been a part of our society. Probably because I'm a non-conformist to the max.

My Mom ate banana bruises

She ate apple bruises too. Peach bruises? You betcha. She did it for all of us. And as crazy as it may sound, I'm at peace with it, now that I know why. What the heck am I talking about here? Oh, I mean this quite literally. My Mom ate fruit bruises. She also scraped the mold off of cheese and ate the non-moldy part. Ya, sounds gross, right? But there was a reason for it. There's more that she did that fits this category, but the point is..

I never realized why My Mom ate fruit bruises and the like until just recently. Sure, we were poor you guys. (I never really thought about how poor until just recently either.) That's because my Mom and my Dad made so many sacrifices for us, that we didn't notice.

But it was so much more than that. We were grossed out that my Mom would cut the bruised part of the fruit she gave us off and eat it herself. We thought it was some kind of depression era habit. I guess it was. But what we didn't see is that we got the good part of the fruit. That was the whole point. We couldn't afford to waste food. So, my Mom made sure we had the best part.

What I, personally, never thought about is that the fruit bruises my Mom ate were probably also the only fruit she ever got. She always saved the good stuff for us. She had grown up in the depression. She wasn't as picky as we were. So she would scrape the mold off the cheese and sour cream and eat what was left.

But she would give us the good stuff that hadn't gone moldy. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that she did this with everything.

She was constantly taking Grade B so we could have Grade A. And while my Dad wasn't quite as “gross” as my Mom in this respect, his life was all about us kids too. Every minute of it.

Oh, they both had their hobbies. My Dad liked gardening and woodworking. He grew our food and made a lot of the things we used around the house. He even built us kids a color TV because we wanted one and couldn't afford it. He sent away for a kit and worked on it for months. It wasn't for him. It was for us. And when my Mom took up “crafting” she made things for us. Everything was for us.

Everything.

All of it was for us. Every mouthful of bruised fruit. She used to say, “I'll take your bruises, Jeannie.” And now that I think about it, she meant that literally. And me, as a kid, the whole time and a little ways into adulthood, I just thought she was kind of gross. Or at least, her habits were. But really, she was just giving me the best in the only way she could.

So now it's my turn to give her my best. And I guess that's true of all people with aging parents. But not all parents eat your bruises for you or scrape the mold off the old sour cream, eat what's left and give you the newer container. Not all parents work as hard as my Dad did and come home and work some more. Not all parents make the sacrifices mine did.

My Dad is gone now, so I can't thank him in person. But I can thank him by calling my Mom more often, writing her the letters she loves to read and maybe sending her a care package here and there. Because that woman ate my banana bruises for me. And he loved her so much, you guys. So much. But that's a story for another day.

Off to call my Mommy. Peace out.