Confessions of a Nostalgic: Back in the Day

I'm quite sure I've got the buffest eyeballs on the planet...
...because an entire childhood of rolling them at the merest mention of my father's "back in the day" flashback narratives should have at least toned a few of those corneal triceps back there, right?  But alas, such is the punishment to all those who grow up in a household were their parents are coincidentally older than they are. We've all heard the "uphill both ways," "slaughtering my own buffalo for supper when Mama was away," and "shaving my chest, face, and back by the time I was smoking 4 packs a day--which was age 6" a time or twenty I'm sure...I mean, who hasn't?  But what I've come to realize over the past few years is something horrifyingly reminiscent of that far-away gaze my father used to get when someone mentioned an Allis Chalmers tractor, 8-tracks, and the Beach Boys...

I miss the old days.

With a slight alteration--I don't miss MY old days.  In fact, I don't even miss my parents' old days entirely.  I think, if I'm totally honest here, I miss the good ol' days of my great grandparents, whose nostalgia I unfortunately never even had the pleasure of hearing.  And it's not the whole "simpler time" mumbo-jumbo-country-crock that you hear most people spout off regarding days past...I just have to fight the urge everyday to not think everything was just plain cooler back in the day.

I know, I know this is about the lamest, most recycled bunch of high-brow posh talk I've ever read too, but if I might convince you, for just a moment, to join me in a look at the exhibits below, maybe together we could process through what I believe to be the 21st century's biggest fabrication--that we're the peak of our own civilization:  


EXHIBIT A:   Kids These Days

EXHIBIT B: The Sunday Drive

EXHIBIT C: What on Earth Are You Listening To?!

Just as a little addition to this one, here's some lyric samples from both eras:

EXHIBIT D: Casual Weekend Attire

Now before you say it, Yes I know the modern day isn't too terribly bad. For every party of frat guys, there's a sensible gathering with respectable gentlemen and ladies in attendance; for every (1 million) Hondas, there's a Bugatti Veyron; for every Bieber, there's a National or J. Roddy Walston and the Business; and for every spectatular display of omnipotent douchery, there's a battalion of you, my dapper brothers-in-arms, to fight the good fight.

Perhaps it just feels like far too often, the strengths of our present seem to dwindle in comparison to even the commonplace of the past.  At any rate, I'm glad there's been a little resurgence of the classics as of late.  Perhaps one day I'll be the one telling my grandkids how good they've got it and shushing their insistence that using a Nokia is super hipster and retro. Who knows? Maybe the future will be hip again soon (a hooverboard would certainly help), but until then, I think I'll continue to take my style inspiration from Downton Abbey and my morning pick-me-up from Black Sabbath.

And who said it's unhealthy to live in the past.