• January 31, 2014
  • blog

There’s no longer any point in making comments on the nonsense of daily occurrences because after so many years of writing, I’ve said it all.

If I were to reread any one of my columns or a blog from last year or, for that matter, 20 years ago, (but blogs weren’t out way back then) my words would be the same.

There’s an expression about nothing new under the sun and these words keep circulating through my creative process – and this mantra is holding me back.

The other day a reader sent me an article about a father, a highly- respected professional in his field, who had been arrested for abusing his teenage step-daughter both mentally and physically.

“Will you comment on this?” she inquired.

Someone else emailed the latest information on the Beiber Kid’s criminal antics and said, “You’ll have a good time with this info.”

All of you readers know exactly what I would say about both of these stories; you just don’t know what words I would use to describe the crazy life pieces we’re all asked to absorb nowadays.

Which takes me to the glory of, ah, yesteryear. 

I polished my saddle oxfords every school night before I went to bed. There was no decision as to what pair of shoes I would wear with my plaid skirt or any other skirt because saddle oxfords went with everything other than one’s Sunday go-to-church clothes.

Shoes to match my skirt or sweater? A pair of socks took care of the matching process.

And nowadays females have abandoned the $2 pair of socks (well they now cost $10) for an array of colored shoes. 

Ah, yesteryear.

Late for the after-school high school student association meeting?   Nowadays a text to say someone was coming late.  Life was easy then – the group saw you when you got there. 

Facebook? There was always somebody in high school that the majority of kids didn’t really like, but that person only faced scorn in something called a “slam-book.”   And if you weren’t in the circle of those passing the book around, hey, you didn’t have the opportunity to know what mean lyrics from a popular song got dedicated to the unpopular teenager.

Ah, yesteryear – and we didn’t even know the living was easy. Nor do those who can’t talk about way-back-then know that living today is a tough menu full of odds to beat, horror stories to accept as okay, kids running the households and issues seemingly with no solutions

My parents solved a lot of things quite easily. If Harold called on the telephone and they didn’t think he was an appropriate friend, they didn’t bother to give me his messages.

Parents answered the telephone.  Even when extensions were created, kids didn’t have the luxury of a conversation that the Masters of the house didn’t have authority over.

I’ve strayed from the central topic of nothing to write about but maybe not, because I’ve come to think there’s too much to write about and it is a hell of a job trying to make any kind of sense out of any of it.

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