Brilliant … But Bouncy

Times Have Changed Some Things.

So: this is my life.

I was born after the last Presidential assassination and the Beatles’ introduction to America. The ever-unpopular Vietnam War began before I started to walk, and extreme civil unrest overwhelmed the country.

Before I started kindergarten, a man walked on the moon. While I was in elementary school, the Beatles broke up. Drugs became prolific. Bob Hope and Pete Rose were popular. I don’t remember segregation, but I don’t remember knowing anyone Black until the 12th grade, when they finally “integrated” our school.

Times have changed some things. I remember my mom hanging clothes on the line, for example; she hand-washed our dishes for most of my childhood. We used oil to make popcorn and french fries, and Mom baked with sugar and flour. Nothing came from a box.

I remember wild celebrations when our country celebrated its 200th birthday, and waiting in long, long lines during a gasoline shortage. In my lifetime, cars shrunk from boat-sized to bumper-car-sized; SUVs didn’t appear until I was out of high school. Electric cars were a pipe dream.

Microwaves and cable TV arrived at our house at about the same time. I was in high school, which meant I could heat up frozen (“healthy”) broccoli with cheese to eat while watching Grease on TV for the 35th time during our bi-monthly free preview of HBO.

The corded telephone that reached almost to the TV room didn’t become obsolete for another 15 years. My childhood included Brady-esque fighting with my sisters over whose turn it was to use the phone – and whispering to my friends so no one could hear my conversations from four feet away.

The first computer we had allowed me to play a game alone; there were no graphics. I would type “TURN LEFT” and it would respond with “A WALL IS ON YOUR LEFT.” Thankfully, video game arcades came out when I was in high school, which made it much easier for me to play games with others.

I was in college when the space shuttle exploded; a decade later I heard about a rover landing on Mars. Somewhere in between, the internet became the first and strongest thread to hold together a planet that now uses it mostly to chit-chat across borders and send videos of tabby cats playing hockey.

I got my first cell phone when I was pregnant, since Bill needed a way to know immediately if I went into labor. We spent a fortune on those phones but my water broke on a Saturday morning, so we didn’t need them. I thought we’d send them back; instead we now pay for five of them.

Like everyone in 2001, I remember a terrorist attack on our soil. Dylan was nine months old; I feigned normalcy for his sake. I thought it would be the worst thing I’d ever see.

I was wrong.

As my children grew, cameras evolved too quickly for us to keep up. We have hundreds of hours of unwatchable film of our children. And we can’t afford to transfer them to a watchable format unless we give up our Indian, Thai, Italian and Chinese takeout.

We still have music on records – some older than I am. But the albums, eight-tracks, cassette tapes and – now – CDs are rarely used. Sometimes Shane’s music suddenly blasts from a living room speaker while he’s in his bedroom.

We have an automatic garage door, motion-activated lights in our yard, and jacuzzi jets in the bath. We don’t rake or shovel; we blow. I do my banking by clicking a couple of “buttons” on a computer. My coin collection has a penny from 1934. I expect my grandchildren will ask, “What’s a penny?”

So far, I’ve survived a worldwide pandemic that has killed 1.6 million people. I pray that future generations don’t face another one. But now that I am older, I recognize history repeating itself.

Still, I can only imagine the future.