Back In The Day

When I was young, in the town where I grew up, as I walked down the street holding my father's hand, he and passers-by would greet each other by name. Each knew where the other lived and usually what type of dog they had on their front porch, or if there was an ailing family member to ask about. I was known as "Hank's grand-daughter" or "Dean's girl" and so on. When we would go to the local coffee shop there were coffee mugs hanging on the wall behind the counter with the locals' names on them. If one hadn't been used for a bit, people wondered if the person was alright and had anyone heard. I know it sounds like I'm talking about "Laura Ingles" days or before electricity or something but I am not. It wasn't that horribly long ago. The man that ran and owned the coffee shop usually kept 1 hand is his apron. He usually had candy in the pocket as well, which he'd ask parents' permission to give to us youngsters. He kept the one hand hidden because he helped out with the local fireworks' display each year, which our home town was famous for, and one year something went wrong and he lost his fingers. He didn't want to scare or startle anyone. As I grew up in this smaller than small town I longed for anonymity, a way to escape and assume whatever identity I wanted, or just to escape period. I always said it was a wonderful place for older people and for small children but not for teens or young adults.

I am no longer a "young adult" and as in most cases in our lives, I now further appreciate what I no longer have. That sense of community, of looking out for each other. Back in the day, people would help without overstepping lines in the sand. Maybe there should have been lines crossed when there were not, but all in all, people looked out for one another while still respecting each other. If something came across wrong, feelings may have been hurt but it was generally understood that there were good intentions behind it. Sure there were town gossips and such but like I say, "in general...."

As technology and industry has changed, our culture has become much more transitory than stationary. Families are scattered all over the place. Elders are left to fend for themselves or be in a "home" which usually is not that of a relative, but a facility of sorts. Children can get into all sorts of mischief without onlookers knowing who their parents are, let alone having enough gumption to call the parent and let them know. While "back in the day" that would have been expected and appreciated, now it is considered meddling. Keeping a watchful eye out for people on your street can now be considered being a nosey, gossipy person, instead of somebody who cares.

Back in the day if someone was employed to do a job they were expected to do that job, no excuses. Now it is lucky to receive poor quality service rather than none at all-especially by so called "federal / government employees". By the way if you write me a letter and I don't get it or do not respond, this is your hint as to why. I'm told "it's a hard job..." etc. Well then find somebody willing to do it!!!! Oh, and stop raising the postal rates while you are at it! After my most recent encounter with trying to receive better service and let the lacking quality be known I am now in the mindset that I hope in the future the postal system is something we no longer need at all. A dinosaur that will become extinct, as it wallows in it's tar pits of bureaucracy! It sounds like sacrilege I know, I am someone who treasures the written word, and yet, this is what it has come to. But, as usual, I'm straying from my point on a tangent. Forgive me please?

I saw a doctor the other day, as sick as this sounds (whoops un-intended pun again, haha) hoping he would find something wrong. Why? Because I want something wrong with me that can be fixable. Sadly, my ailments are not fixable, only able to minimize pain. I was told to avoid stairs. I live in a two story home, there are stairs to the landing then more stairs to go down to the lower level or up to the main level where the kitchen is. The laundry is on the first floor by the way. I guess I need to buy a puffy skirt and an umbrella and learn to fly like Mary-flippin'-Poppins because otherwise I'm trapped. Back in the day....what would they have done? Shot me like a horse to put me out of my misery? Not a bad idea, I'm sure the post office would be thrilled along with a few others. Or would I get some much needed help from people who care and understand. Help that is given without being asked, without stinging one's pride, Help that is given out of love, not so one can gossip about how pitiful or lacking one is or their family is. Yeah, back in the day.....