I started to sit down a couple nights ago to rip on reminiscing, then a funny thing happened. I joined the, "You Know You Grew Up in Webster Groves When . . ." Facebook group, and I started recollecting. I didn't "indulge in reminiscence," as one dictionary defines reminiscing. I did, however, recall some funny incidents from my youth, recollections prompted by others' comments within said Facebook group. Like, melting crayons in the back of the classroom at Douglass Elementary School with Jim Biggs and Mark Pankoff, among others. There was a 1,000-degree radiator back there, and we spent the better time of the year putting it to good use. That was a "team" classroom, wherein you had two grades--and about 60 students--in one classroom, with two or three teachers. Somehow, we all learned our ABCs and 123s. This particular class was third grade for me, the other half fourth grade. I recollect.
There's a time and a place for sitting back and yearning for the days of yesteryear. I've just never really found that time or place. I learned a long time ago that if you fret over your getting older, you'd better watch out, 'cause ten years down the road, you're going to realize you weren't that old back then and you spent time in sorrow over nothing. Rarely has there been a day in my life when I didn't think better days and times were forthcoming, and just about every day I've lived has been pretty good.
Time goes by so fast that my life seems like a pretty compact series of events, all good, including today. I'm older but not old. I'm older than Brett Favre, beat him by seven months, though I'm sure this week he feels a heck of a lot older. I don't think he continues to play to regain past glory. I think he plays to find new glory, looking ahead rather than behind. I play hockey not because it is some form of arrested development but because I get better every time, and I love doing cool new stuff on the ice. One time, not too long ago, someone said to me, in regard to my still playing hockey regularly, that "you have to grow up sometime." That was one of the dumbest comments I've ever heard, so I moved on--forward.
There are periods of my life past that I would love to re-visit for fun, but there are not past times I yearn for. I like Facebook for communicating about today and what's coming, but not so much for what happened yesterday. Sometimes it feels as though you're in the midst of a clan of have-losts. I've always felt more like a will-gain.
Memories are good, you wouldn't want to be without them. I have good memories, and I think of them--and even dream of them--often. Maybe why I dream of them is because I don't verbalize them too frequently, unless it's a funny story or the like. Sometimes I tell them in a manner to intentionally sound old. I loathe the day I tell them and unintentionally sound old.
I guess memories are kind of like a good snowfall, a nice novelty from time to time but amazingly annoying in repeated doses.
I like old people, and I like hearing them tell stories of the past. I like history, and I think "simpler times" are appealing to everyone. I just don't like not-so-old people who sound old. Maybe that's cause I have an 85-year-old grandmother who can beat us all at Wii bowling, and a 91-year-old grandmother who makes me laugh every time I talk to her. I think it's safe to say they're both old, but I don't think of them as old. I think by that age you've figured out you'll be older tomorrow, so no reason to act like you're old today.
One of my favorite things about Bernie was she never acted old. Ready to play, every day.
Me, well, I'm pretty certain tomorrow will be an ever better day than today.
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