Today I am grateful for the good-old-days. I know, I am officially old. Okay, I have been for a while, but this is confirmation.
I had a great encounter with a woman at the gas pump this morning. We were discussing how far gas prices had come down. . .all the way to $3.14.9. Whoopee! Then we reminisced about gas prices back-in-the-day, when as kids we paid $.25 a gallon and there were gas-wars everywhere. And they gave you glasses and dishes that filled our mom’s cabinets. I told her how we used to pool our change and drive around all night, from six to midnight, buzzing 8th Street and looping through McDonalds on the north side of town.
She said that even though there was a war (Vietnam) back then, things were pretty good. I reminded her we still have a war. Sadly war seems to be the only constant from generation to generation. But back then, people didn’t seem so stressed and angry. They looked into each other’s eyes and talked, even to strangers like us. . . in a chance encounter lasting less than five minutes.
We grew up before texting and twitter and computer games and constant, inundating, looping bad news on 150 channels. I am grateful for the good-old-days because they taught me how to communicate with people. Any people. Anywhere. Even at a gas pump.