The Good Old Days
I remember a time when the sun was warm and pleasant on my face and I laid on the beach without fear of cancer for the thinness of the Ozone layer. I remember a time when we wheeled our baby carriage to the supermarket and left it outside on the sidewalk, baby and baby carriage while we shopped for groceries.
I remember a time when the cop on the beat was called by his first name and we felt secure and protected when he was around. I remember a time when we knew our neighbors and got together on the roof of the apartment house on hot summer nights to talk or play cards.
I remember a time when France was France and Italy was Italy and McDonalds and Coca Cola wasn't plastered all over the world. I remember a time when a logging truck hauled a log one single log big as a house.
I remember a time when not every second word was fuck or shit or asshole. I remember a time when the music wasn't deafening, when we danced cheek to cheek, when there were things we wanted before we got them, when we believed in God and Santa Claus, when ice cream parlors were like social clubs.
And don't tell me I'm being nostalgic and those weren't the good old days.