The March of Time is, well marching on. And a lot of good things and people and ideas have gone away. I miss them.
I miss… those little vent windows at the front of the side windows on cars. I miss… Peter Jennings doing the ABC News. I miss… the Lands’ End Square Rigger attaché bags. I miss… going to the A&W Root Beer drive in and getting a Baby Beer with mom and dad.
I miss… the old Banana Republic catalogs. I miss… the original air-cooled Volkswagen Beetle. I miss… watching Alan Alda as Hawkeye on M*A*S*H. I miss… the thrill of writing my first computer programs in BASIC. I miss… playing guitar really, really well. I miss… my mother’s breakfast of eggs and bread and some other stuff (and Love) in a little bowl. I miss… Sally, Dick and Jane. I miss… the feeling of control over my finances I had when I used Microsoft Money.
I miss… the education I got from the old Comer-era Lands’ End catalogs. I miss… putting in the miles on my Schwinn LeTour Luxe bicycle. I miss… being a writer. I miss… Mary Tyler Moore. I miss… family reunions. I miss… people being ashamed of being ignorant, instead of being proud. I miss… the American space program. I miss… Plymouth cars. I miss… the Double-K (actually the Double-KK, but never called that) restaurant. I miss… crossing the country in a time before Interstates and FM radio.
I miss… Davey and Goliath. I miss… having the summers off. I miss… the thrill in the late afternoon as it got closer to the time when Dad would come home. I miss… George Carlin. I miss… not having to wear glasses. I miss… the smell of mimeographed handouts in school. I miss… sneakers that didn’t look reptilian or like something an astronaut would wear. I miss… the old GEnie computer network.
I miss… crushes. I miss… Dan Fogelberg. I miss… family-owned, hometown banks. I miss… Johnny Carson. I miss… David Letterman, too. I miss… teaching people how to make Web pages. I miss… long drives listening to the radio, or my old 8-Track player. I miss… being a radio DJ. I miss… Dynamints. I miss… a terrific local restaurant called “Meal Train” that used to deliver—their chicken and dumplings were terrific! I miss… the thrill of coming home with my 2400-baud modem! I miss… having a 32-inch waist.
I miss… my first Macintosh, a 512ke. I miss… my Honda CRX Si. I miss… the thrill I got when one of my favorite bands released a new album. I miss… when cable-TV actually worked. I miss… being sure of things. I miss… my friends from high school. I miss… a feeling of being sure of anything. I miss… Barack Obama. I miss… sleeping through the night. I miss… flying.
I miss… Dos Banditos restaurant in ScottsBluff, or Gering, or Terrytown, or wherever it was. I miss… the view of the mountains from Redondo Beach on a clear day. I miss… a little rest area just west of Pilger, Nebraska. Don’t ask why. I miss… my father’s big, brown hand slapping me on the thigh as he said “Dad’s Boy!” I miss… The Beatles.
I miss… the little smallpox scar I had on my shoulder for years. I miss… our old cuckoo clock I miss… The Eagles up to Hotel California. I miss… my Mother-In-Law (the second one). I miss… seeing actual historic locations when we would get transferred across the country. I miss… Cuba Aliados cigars. I miss… my Baby Sister.
I don’t dwell on these things. I wouldn’t go back in time to recover most of them. A few friends, maybe. But I do think there’s a sadness in seeing a lot of good things fade away.
What do you miss?
