Tag: Good Humor Truck

Evolving or Devolving? Which is it?

Cowboys and Indians, tag, roller skating, jump rope, baseball, dodge ball, Davy Crockett coonskin caps, paper dolls, Mouseketeers, marbles, Ginny dolls and monkey bars. Walking to school or taking a bus no matter the weather. Playing outside until the street lights came on, chasing the Good Humor truck down the street, sitting close to the fan on a hot summer night, etc. etc. etc.

This is part of what it meant to be a child growing up in post-World War II America. Most Baby Boomers remember it very well.

Perhaps that’s why our long-term memory remains so good; to more vividly recall simpler times.

For most Americans life was a quiet time sparsely laced with moments of terror and foreboding. Families were building businesses, buying homes and becoming invested in their communities.

However, the foreboding and terror was pretty much reserved for the older generation. They were the ones who had to deal with Red China, The Cold War and bomb shelters.

A kid’s version of terror was being sent to the principal’s office, watching Michael Landon in I was a Teenage Werewolf or realizing blowing cigarette smoke out the bathroom window won’t always cut it.

Of course, there were some disquieting moments for us Boomers. Especially when we were marched down into the asbestos-covered pipe bowels of our school basement to escape an atom bomb.

Looking backward, it all seems so foolish, doesn’t it? As if an atom bomb could be stopped by moving into the basement. Ironic that the real danger was the asbestos.

I also remember polio as a scary moment until Dr. Jonas Salk created the vaccine that ended its scourge.

We all remember lining up in school, receiving a pink-splotched sugar cube placed in a paper cupcake holder and passed out by the school nurse.

Beat the hell out of shots in the arm.

I suppose polio must have had a much more frightening impact on our generation than first believed since we all remember receiving the sugar cube so clearly.

There are those who will quickly point out that these memories are no more than rose-colored reflections on times we romanticize. I don’t think so.

Any Boomer will instantly defend their childhood in a far quieter and more charming world.

As an old movie fan, I’ve watched my share of old movies. Boomer life in small town America was so naïve, fun and easy to navigate.

College pep rallies instead of blood-thirsty protests. Picnics in the park or at a friend’s, or filling the blow-up rubber pool on summer’s steamy days.

The excitement of your home’s first air conditioning unit.

There are many who say yes, but what about diseases with no cures, the fact people died younger and TV sets were black and white and twelve inches. Don’t forget having to use the antennas with aluminum foil to get the darn picture right. Or did you forget party lines, the fact women were second class citizens and father was the one who always knew best?

Of course, progress is a good thing, well in most areas perhaps.

I still contend that quality of life isn’t dependent on how many likes you have on TikTok, how many friends on Facebook or the latest Netflix offering.

The food was real, not chemicals, neighborhoods were tree lined and neighbors knew and cared about one another. At least where I grew up.

Yes, yes I know airplanes are faster, food is delivered, the Internet has brought the world into our homes, streaming services make going to the movies irrelevant and a robot named Alexa is sitting in our house spying on our every move. And that to most people is a good thing.

I must counter with the fact SIRI hasn’t understood a word I’ve said in three years. It’s like talking to someone who is deaf and refuses to wear a hearing aid.

“Hello Siri, Siri I said Maple not Whipple.” So yes, the stress levels of modern life can be over the top.

I simply don’t remember that so much as a kid.

Did our parents feel the pressures we were protected from?

I know every generation tries to protect the young. Yet, it seems that the negatives weren’t as scary.

Okay, I’ll give you the atom bomb, but terrorism, crime and AI trumps that by miles.

Were people nicer? Absolutely. Could you get a malted or a phosphate at the drugstore when buying the new Archie Annual? Sure.

Did the baseball stadium smell like freshly mown grass at the games? You bet. And it was the best smell.

Most would choose progress, but of course at what price?

What are we willing to pay for faster, bigger, new and improved?

And a question I ask myself often these days…are we indeed moving forward as a species or is that an illusion?

Do we tell ourselves man is evolving when in our hearts we know far too many are becoming more vicious than the dinosaurs we replaced.

Do I see the past in America through rose-colored glasses? I’m sure I do. Would I want to give up all the new and modern inventions we now possess? I’m afraid I’d have to think about that one.

Our children believe their generation grew up in a peaceful and charming America as well. I imagine our grandchildren will believe the same.

We are nothing if not adaptable.

But honestly, looking back it just seemed so darned easy. Can anyone look around at this world and use the term easy to describe the present? I’d have to say not in a million years. So, I’ll just enjoy my memories and hope life takes a beat, moves a bit backward to recalibrate and slows down the pace. Actually, that might be the best progress we could all hope for.

I know I am.   

Would You Live Your Life Over Again? Or is Once Enough?

Thomas Wolfe famously wrote a classic American novel entitled, “You Can’t Go Home Again.” These words seemed to resonate with most people who at times during their lives feel a need to return to their roots. To smell the smells, hear the noises and feel the feelings of being home again is enticing.

Of being in the safety and comfort of youth and innocence. A time when loved ones were still here and home meant warmth and security. A place to dream, plan and experience the excitement of a life not lived, but still only imagined. A future fraught with possibilities and a present filled with friends, fun and hope for the future.

I usually try to inject humor into my blogs, yet sometimes life isn’t funny. It’s sad, confusing and devastating. And perhaps that’s why I am suddenly drawn to memories.

I guess when you put it that way who wouldn’t want to go home again?

And yet as Wolfe reminded us, we can’t. These memories are a form of time travel transporting us back to happier times. And that realization is a moment of sadness. It fills us with a longing to return to our past we so covet and yearn to recapture. Memories keep the people and places we lost in our lives alive.

Oh, I’m not saying that we should live in the past, foregoing the present and future while wishing to go backward.

I’m just saying there are moments in life that seem to sneak up on us like a thief and rob us of the present. We find ourselves steeped in a memory.

But aren’t these recollections actually an important part of our present and future?

Isn’t what and who we are a product of what we were?

I myself find that there is no intention when these memories arise.

I will simply pass a store window and see a sofa and suddenly I’ll recall the living room of our first home. And I am drawn instantly back in time to the feelings and moments spent there. Of my late brother using the back of the couch as a horse pretending to be Hopalong Cassidy.

Or I could be watching a television show and see a bakery when suddenly I can smell the place on our corner I used to go with my mother to get bread and cakes. These feelings can be so powerful they stop us in our tracks and we are forced to remember, to experience, to luxuriate in the glow of our past.

So why does it seem at times we all desire a return to childhood. To innocence and hope?

Surely no one can honestly say they would like to go through it all again. To fight the war of existence and battles of becoming who we must be.

Eons ago as a teen I was watching a talk show and the host asked the audience how many would like to live their life over again.

Only a few hands were raised in response. I was shocked to see so many people would choose not to redo, to reconstruct their lives. I mean doesn’t everyone want a do over at times?

As I grew older, I fully understood the reason for their lack of enthusiasm reliving it all again.

I imagine a great part of that question and answer lies in the fact that as we age, we gain wisdom.

And a big part of that wisdom is understanding. Knowing if we went backward in time we’d have to repeat all our mistakes to gain the knowledge we now possess. The lessons, hard fought and difficult would certainly reoccur since we would lack the ability to know any better.

The caveat is I would like to go back knowing what I know now. So what’s the point?

What’s’ the point indeed?

What’s the reason that we stand transfixed when a sudden memory intrudes on the now? Perhaps memories are the way we do live our life over?

Still why are we sometimes filled with a longing to return to simpler times and familiar places?

Is it a flaw in our nature? Something that makes us want to escape the present instead of facing it head on?

I don’t believe that is the case.

I think these memories are a powerful reinforcement of our own humanity and the reality we are still in the world.

Most of us rarely sit and focus on how we became who we are. How we arrived in this place or achieved or failed at our goals.

Part of this may be the pain of knowing we can’t go back and change anything.

And perhaps that’s why we need to return so badly to the “then.” To a place where there is no reckoning, no judgement, no regret.

To feel that sense of freedom that the whole world lies before us and time is never ending.

That we have a lifetime to dream, hope and live. Or assured that years didn’t seem to fly by at an alarming rate as we stood by powerless and watched.

When we were kids, summer vacation seemed eons away. Christmas and Chanukah couldn’t come fast enough. November just dragged until we turned the calendar over to December.

Now we are faced with the fact the clocks speed along like a rocket and Monday becomes Friday in the blink of an eye.

We’re supposed to be psychologically healthy and grieve for our loved ones, yet afterward get on with life. That “life is for the living” is a mantra we all must adopt to be happy. Yet deep inside we question that is true.

If we’re honest with ourselves we fight against loss each day. When the past slips up on us in a memory, it is actually us giving in to the fact we miss happier times.

And that’s okay because that memory is a gift that allows us to revel in the past when we need comforting.

These moments we feel warmed by the happy times of the past us, the past them who are no longer here. Through these memories, they return and yes, it may be for only a few moments, but we need that time again. Who we are is what we were and who were in our lives.

To ignore this need goes against a pleasure in which we should all indulge.

So when you hear a bell ring, it’s okay to taste that Good Humor ice cream again. When you an old song plays it’s okay to dance and sing once more with friends while bouncing on your bed. When you taste a favorite food it’s wonderful to return to your family table once again and share a meal with loved ones.

It’s a necessary part of who we are and what we need to be us. To survive and thrive in a world that is too often unwelcoming and cold.

I wish everyone all the wonderful memories you require to feel the love and strength from what and who came before.