I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled
~ T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
As I grow old and wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, I lament the loss of the simple things of days long usurped by time.
Ah, the good old days. Simpler times. When there was time to stop and catch your breath. I find myself using these expressions more often these days. It is an inevitable development when you have more years behind you than ahead of you – the polite way of saying I am getting old.
I have no doubt that every generation falls back on these expressions in their senior years. But I believe that my generation – Baby Boomers – has a greater claim to them than ever before. We have seen a tidal wave of change over the course of our lives. Life has become so dizzyingly fast-paced and so much more complex.
Oh, how I miss the simple things of my small town youth. Things that required no digital technology and could be done on a whim.
Getting on my bicycle, with its high handle bars and banana seat, to go for a ride for an hour with no destination in mind and my own company to keep.
Strolling down to the vacant corner lot (long since occupied by an apartment building) to pick wild strawberries and catch grasshoppers.
Playing football in two neighbouring yards because no one felt the need to build fences around their property or worry about trespassers.
Going fishing at the creek with no GPS fish finder, no high tech – high speed – ultralight – gear ratio reel and no scented baits – just a dew worm on a hook and two lead shot sinkers.
Rotating the TV antennae to the right position to bring in the station you wanted to watch. Is that better? What about this?
Playing catch with myself throwing a rubber ball against the house and trying to get the perfect rebound from the spot where the foundation meets the ground.
Gathering at the neighbour’s yard in late summer to climb the big tree, pick pears, put them in a six quart, wooden basket and lower it to the ground by a rope tied to a branch.
Admittedly, part of this nostalgia is linked to the carefree days of youth when I had minimal responsibilities. But it is equally grounded in the simplicity of those times before the Internet, digital technology and the relentless sprint of progress.
As I grow old, I long for the days when simplicity reigned supreme. When a walk in the sunshine with nowhere to get to was the best part of the day and a source of fulfillment all by itself. Simpler times. The good old days. I miss them so.
~ Now Available Online from Amazon, Chapters Indigo or Barnes & Noble: Hunting Muskie, Rites of Passage – Stories by Michael Robert Dyet
~ Michael Robert Dyet is also the author of Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel (now out of print) which was a double winner in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2009. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com .
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Tags: Baby Boomer · metaphor · Michael Robert Dyet · simplicity · T.S. Eliot · The good old days · The Love Song of J. Alfred PrufrockNo Comments