Sunday, January 24, 2016
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Waxing Romantic
Lately there has been a rash of postings on Facebook. Posts that wax nostalgically for the "better times" or the "good old days"when the CD had not been invented; Xbox was not heard of; a 500 television Chanel universe was only a dream; and we all played hide and seek until dark.
While there is a nice sound to some,of these to my 58 year old deaf ears; there is also much to be thankful for in this year of our Lord 2016.
Growing up family picnics were fun and looked forward to. I miss that. I don't miss the fact that after we left the site at the park, it was the norm to leave all the trash, or throw it out the car window.
Parents smoked with young children in the car, having a beer while driving at the cottage was acceptable. Ashtrays were dumped on the side of the road at all intersections.
We drove big cars that took leaded gas with no regard for Mother Earth and her siblings.
We cut trees with abandon and with no regard for the future in order to satisfy the moment.
Ah yes the Good old days!
When we heard of a domestic dispute, we felt for the family, but dismissed it.
Child abuse was not reported.If it was, no one talked about it, and we went back to playing Hide and seek until dark. Alcohol abuse was known, but smiled at by many.
Simpler times for sure, and much of it is missed. The bookmobile came on Tuesday nights from 4 until 8 and we lined up outside the tractor trailer to see if there were any copies of Cat in the Hat to be had. The internet, let alone the giant book stores, were but twinkles in someone eyes.
Our parents bought big Vinyl records to listen to 8 songs.
No one wore seat belts,as we went to the Drive In movie, because we loved our cars! Pollution was not part of our lexicon until the late 60's, when we realized we were poisoning our lungs with factory emissions. and fish in our waters were going the way of the Dinosaur
Ah yes, the good old days.
My cochlear Implant gives me some sense of "Thank God we live in these times". Even more so when I see a small child that was born deaf, wearing the tell-tale magnet of our processor that gives sound to where before, silence lived.
Nice to wax nostalgically about the good old days, but I'm happy as a school boy in 2016!
Namaste
David
While there is a nice sound to some,of these to my 58 year old deaf ears; there is also much to be thankful for in this year of our Lord 2016.
Growing up family picnics were fun and looked forward to. I miss that. I don't miss the fact that after we left the site at the park, it was the norm to leave all the trash, or throw it out the car window.
Parents smoked with young children in the car, having a beer while driving at the cottage was acceptable. Ashtrays were dumped on the side of the road at all intersections.
We drove big cars that took leaded gas with no regard for Mother Earth and her siblings.
We cut trees with abandon and with no regard for the future in order to satisfy the moment.
Ah yes the Good old days!
When we heard of a domestic dispute, we felt for the family, but dismissed it.
Child abuse was not reported.If it was, no one talked about it, and we went back to playing Hide and seek until dark. Alcohol abuse was known, but smiled at by many.
Simpler times for sure, and much of it is missed. The bookmobile came on Tuesday nights from 4 until 8 and we lined up outside the tractor trailer to see if there were any copies of Cat in the Hat to be had. The internet, let alone the giant book stores, were but twinkles in someone eyes.
Our parents bought big Vinyl records to listen to 8 songs.
No one wore seat belts,as we went to the Drive In movie, because we loved our cars! Pollution was not part of our lexicon until the late 60's, when we realized we were poisoning our lungs with factory emissions. and fish in our waters were going the way of the Dinosaur
Ah yes, the good old days.
My cochlear Implant gives me some sense of "Thank God we live in these times". Even more so when I see a small child that was born deaf, wearing the tell-tale magnet of our processor that gives sound to where before, silence lived.
Nice to wax nostalgically about the good old days, but I'm happy as a school boy in 2016!
Namaste
David
Friday, January 15, 2016
Aging in the Daylight hours
There are days that I feel out of place. Over the hill.
I love to run, but don't own anything neon that glows in the dark, to go on my feet. My running gear is grey. My pants are black, my shirts are white. I ran with a group this past fall, and felt the eyes on me as I blended in with the sidewalk. The dark night swallowed me up. The fashionistas in this running group had every neon colour imaginable. I led the pace for the most part, so for having 35-45 years on these kids, felt pretty good.
I have a couple of watches from ions ago, and wear them every Olympic year for a day or two. I notice now that my watch only tells the time, and how that must look to the smartie pants watch wearing people, whose smart watches figure out the flight paths of migratory birds at the least.
Accounting for the number of steps I take on any given day, and the calories I burn might be of some importance, but not enough for me to wear a calibration device to advise me that I need to eat less and walk more if I want to live into my 90's. Fact is, I really don't want see what 101 looks like.
I enjoy dinners at 4:45, relaxing in PJ's before 7, and lights out by 10. On special occasions I have been known to kick up my heels and see what goes on after 11, but that is rare.
I will run/walk and run and walk in my non-coloured gear during day light hours. Night time, I am discovering is for indoors and wearing PJ's
I will dine when I am hungry, and if it is 4:15, then so be it.
I will wear a watch that tells me the time, and if I need to know the number the steps I take in a day, then count me out.
When you become independent of the good opinion of others, as I am in the remains of my days, you are in a fine place my friend.
Namaste
David
I love to run, but don't own anything neon that glows in the dark, to go on my feet. My running gear is grey. My pants are black, my shirts are white. I ran with a group this past fall, and felt the eyes on me as I blended in with the sidewalk. The dark night swallowed me up. The fashionistas in this running group had every neon colour imaginable. I led the pace for the most part, so for having 35-45 years on these kids, felt pretty good.
I have a couple of watches from ions ago, and wear them every Olympic year for a day or two. I notice now that my watch only tells the time, and how that must look to the smartie pants watch wearing people, whose smart watches figure out the flight paths of migratory birds at the least.
Accounting for the number of steps I take on any given day, and the calories I burn might be of some importance, but not enough for me to wear a calibration device to advise me that I need to eat less and walk more if I want to live into my 90's. Fact is, I really don't want see what 101 looks like.
I enjoy dinners at 4:45, relaxing in PJ's before 7, and lights out by 10. On special occasions I have been known to kick up my heels and see what goes on after 11, but that is rare.
I will run/walk and run and walk in my non-coloured gear during day light hours. Night time, I am discovering is for indoors and wearing PJ's
I will dine when I am hungry, and if it is 4:15, then so be it.
I will wear a watch that tells me the time, and if I need to know the number the steps I take in a day, then count me out.
When you become independent of the good opinion of others, as I am in the remains of my days, you are in a fine place my friend.
Namaste
David
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