A smartly dressed young man climbs out of the polished black car, walks around to the passenger side, and opens the door for the young woman sitting there. She steps out, and off they go hand-in-hand toward the park.
I’m kind of agog because that kind of respect is not something you see every day anymore. And, call me old fashioned, but I miss it—personally as well as a reflection of our society. We’re more laid back (lazy?) these days. Casual. We’re busy with important things but, just maybe, neglecting the most important things.
Some other things I miss.
Family at the table at roughly the same time every night for the evening meal.
A bowl of mushy cereal and Saturday morning cartoons.
Walt Disney and the Beachcombers (only Canadians will remember this one) on Sunday evening.
Five a.m. feedings in a dark and quiet house—just mom and babe awake.
After school snacks. Changing out of school clothes into play clothes. The sweet stretch of time from then until supper.
Mr. Dressup. (Another Canadian icon.)
Crinolines and white gloves. (Okay, I don’t really miss crinolines. But white gloves, yes. And Jergen’s hand lotion in glass bottles.)
But, you know, there are shadows lurking in memories of these old school things. All has never been exactly as it appeared and nostalgia only takes one so far.
The most important things are intangible, not quantifiable, unseen but not hidden. Timeless. It’s hard to list them. We hesitate to name them because they’re tied up in tentacles of other sticky stuff but we know them when we see them.
The young couple returns to their vehicle, both to the passenger side of the car. The young man opens the door and waits for the young woman to climb in. Then he closes it and, unhurried, walks around to the driver’s side.
Man, it’s refreshing. It gives me hope.
Let’s hope we’re seeing a pendulum swing that sticks around!
Wouldn’t that be lovely?
You hooked me at soggy cereal and cartoons on Saturday mornings. Love this piece, Linda, and share all the memories as a fellow Canadian. You are right about nostalgia have sticky bits. We daren’t look too close.
There’s something especially comforting about those Saturday morning memories, isn’t there? Happy Thanksgiving, V.J.!
Thanks. You too!