By Michael B. Wright
I’m so old that I remember when Rolling Stone, VH1, and MTV were about music.
I remember when it was safe to hitchhike, as well as pick up hitchhikers.
I remember when car horns were used strictly to warn people of danger, such as if your brakes were out, or to let people know you were waiting out in front to pick them up rather than an audio version of “shooting a bird.”
I remember when Chaz Bono was a cute little girl.
I remember when you could tell the make and model of any car from 100 yards away.
I remember when saxophones dominated rock music instead of guitars.
I remember George Goble using his signature phrase “Well I’ll be a dirty bird!”
I remember when neighbors were neighborly, and anyone’s lawn sprinkler was fair game for kids trying to beat the heat.
I remember when your dad could pull your loose tooth out with a piece of yo-yo string, rather than take you to a pricey oral surgeon.
I remember when the best hamburgers in the world came from a chain called Frisch’s.
I remember that before juvenile delinquency was attributed to troubled childhoods, chemical imbalances, poor nutrition and anything else other than poor parenting, it was blamed on Elvis Presley, and before that it was blamed on comic books, which ultimately had to have “The Dell Seal of Approval” on the cover.
I remember when there were only 3 choices for tennis shoes: Wilson, US Keds and PFCs. Nike was a guided missile.
I remember when guns weren’t bought or stolen for criminal purposes, they were made at home out of tubes, door slide-bolts, elastic bands and screen door springs.
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I remember when if you knew the guy who pushed the ice cream cart around the neighborhood you could occasionally score a chunk of dry ice.
I remember when Roger McGuinn was Jim McGuinn.
I remember when Fulton J. Sheen and other television God-sellers displayed a more believable illusion of piety, honesty and integrity than the current tribe of transparent charlatans and hucksters.
I remember when it was acceptable for ventriloquists to move their lips.
I remember before infomercials when TV stations went off-the-air for most of the night right after the Indian-head test pattern and the Star-Spangled Banner played, and Kate Smith sang “God Bless America.”
I remember when magazines had more content than advertising.
If you can relate to any of these memories, share your thoughts with Mike at micwrighthamo@gmail.com.
