Like It Always Was

It’s not like it used to be,
so many of us old guys say.
But I overheard a twenty-something
whisper that to her girlfriend
the other day in the checkout line.
And I wondered what a kid would know
about the nebulous “used to be.”
How could she relate to changing
what was on television by getting up
from your seat, walking across the room
and twisting the dial to one of
the only four channels that existed?
In pixel-ridden black and white.
Coming out of a piece of
wooden living room furniture?
How could she understand a time
when the scant coffee shops we had
were pretty much limited to an
artsy neighborhood, a block or two
up from the head shop,
where they sold weed
surreptitiously in the back?
What would they know of atomic
missile crises and street-filling protests
over racial injustice,
environmental destruction and
“Impeach the Bastard?”
Then I blinked out of my reverie,
as the girls, with matching tattoos
on their necks, gathered their cloth
refillable grocery bags and walked,
hand in hand, out of the store.
I thought. “No, it’s not
like it used to be.
But, that’s okay, really,
’cause it is.”

If you have been lucky enough, as I, to have lived through the Fifties, Sixties, Seventies, etc., maybe you can relate. If not, trust me, I’ve seen this before. But it did take protest to turn things around. Maybe not all at once. But then, folks from these times are used to instant information, communication and gratification, fast as a 64-bit architecture can spit. Patience, children. Such things take time. Like it used to be.

7 thoughts on “Like It Always Was

    • Thank you, old friend. This has been quite the slog lately, as you might know. I just got tired of all that rhyming, so I decided to try getting back to my poetic roots, you might say. Observation of the common place through my own hideously cracked prism. Love you, Helen. 🌹🌹🌹

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