I liked it better when the music came in vinyl, with double albums and plenty of pictures and liner notes by famous rock writers, that you’d read and re-read and re-read because you were high after cleaning your dope and rolling joints on said double albums.
I liked it better when when planes were flown with precision and landed safely, and not into buildings, and there was more to eat on a flight than a salted peanut or two and you could keep your shoes and belt and coat on.
I liked it better when the people with all the money were older well at least 50 or so — or were, maybe, politicians, wheelin and dealin in smoke filled back rooms (who cares what they did I mean they were politicians.)
And when, if you were in a far right wing group like the John Birch Society, or some such, you were roundly pilloried for being a heartless anti-working class scumbag and oddball an outkast an outlier a liar a thief in the night a stealer of dreams not a mainstream hero with actual political clout and a blog a column a tv show.
I liked it better when a wacko’s only hope for notoriety was a soapbox and megaphone on the corner, or mimeographed fliers that you’d smell the chemicals off of and pretend it got you high like when you did for the girls in grammar school when the homework assignments were passed back from the teacher.
I liked it better when you just took the fookin job and when the HR person started talking about benefits about healthcare about sick days about paid holidays you drifted into the twilight zone because hooray hooray you were young and gonna celebrate because you got the job and who cared about all that other malarkey.
And when weekends were free from emails and texts and beeps and boops and noises of all manner that keep you shackled keep you tethered keep you harnessed but good every minute even the mornings with the industrial strength tequila hangovers that threaten to split your skull like a broad sword.
And when kids held doors for their elders because they were told to, that’s why, and when the kids didn’t die from anaphylactic shock from smelling someone ELSE’S peanut butter sandwich at lunch and their idea of fun and mischief was to put green peas on the snap locks of their attaché cases and release the catches so the peas would fly high to the next table and onto the heads of friends during school lunch.
And and and
I liked it better when these same kids played outside with all the pent-up energy that is kid-dom and oh the non-stop screaming and squealing and ball throwing and chasing and grabbing and laughing, oh
it’s the laughing that I miss most.