Old Fashioned Ways

“Good, old-fashioned ways keep hearts sweet, heads sane, hands busy.”
― Louisa May Alcott

Every generation feels like theirs is better than the one before. Computers are faster, transportation is easier, TV screens are bigger, and athletes keep breaking the records of those who have gone before. But a child who discovers the gems of traditions has stumbled upon an oft hidden treasure. He may discover that playing board games with friends is more satisfying than playing a computer game by himself, or that a thousand “friends” on Facebook are not as precious as one or two good ones with whom he can share his heart and hurts. He might even discover that the things Mom and Dad used to do for entertainment really are a whole lot of fun!

My fascination with yesteryear began with one of my first memories. Our family rented an upstairs apartment from an elderly couple named Charlie and Mamie. I remember occasionally venturing down to their house for a tall glass of milk and some homemade cookies; but the thing that stands out more than anything else was sitting on Charlie’s knee and listening to him tell stories. Charlie was living history! He told tall tales of crossing the Midwest in a covered wagon, and of meeting real live “wild Indians”. So olden days were never wrapped in a dull, drab cloak for me. They were like a coat of many colors. A part of me has always wondered why everyone doesn’t feel the same!

I did not realize it at the time, but I had a well-lit path due to the beacons coming from the elderly people in my life. We frequently spent time with both my paternal and maternal grandparents (who were in fact neighbors and good friends with each other!). Sometimes we stayed with them; sometimes they stayed with us. Looking back, I now realize they resembled lighthouses in another very tangible way: they were totally free. Ships never had to pay for the services of the lighthouse; and no one has to pay a penny for the beams streaming from those in our family who have blazed many a winding trail ahead of us.

We close the doors of the past to our children to their hurt. But if we find ways to open the treasure chests of past generations to them, we will have passed on to them those things which will never rust or rot and shall never be taken from them.

PS. I once rode in the local parade with my grandfather in his black 1940 Buick.  And this Studebaker is the spitting image of my grandmother’s that we used to drive around in!