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And I think it’s awesome that Alexa can tell me the weather in Timbuktu and turn off my household lights in a single command. I know, I know – it all sounds idyllic and maybe even archaic, but life seemed just more … simple.ĭon’t get me wrong, I love the fact that I can simply ask Google any question and get an answer within milliseconds instead of pulling out a four-pound encyclopedia. We were taught to work hard, respect others (even when you didn’t agree with them), and in everything, do your best. Do you remember that annoying high-pitched musical note that played behind the video color bars until morning?īack in my day, we didn’t have social media platforms that invaded every area of our lives all day long – often leading to cyberbullying, social anxiety, depression, and poor self image.
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We had five TV stations that actually turned off overnight. For example, back in my day, we didn’t have the ability to watch television 24 hours a day sucking your brains dry with 2,456 channels. My grandparents were ordinary and amazing at the same time.Īs I look back to the ’70s and compare that time to 2021, things are so incredibly different. How ironic that the scent of Vics Vapor Rub and Ben Gay now bring me joy! What I didn’t realize back then is that my grandparents worked very hard (and without complaining) to provide a roof over our head, three home-cooked meals a day, and unconditional love for a household of eight. I remember thinking they were old, didn’t do much away from the house, had plastic covers on all their furniture, and smelled funny. I lived with my grandparents a good part of my childhood. Fruity Pebbles, Count Chocula, and Hamburger Helper all came to be in 1971. For kicks and giggles, I looked up items that share a birth year with me. I have just turned (cue the announcing trumpet melody) 50 years old. But there is a lingering truth here: I am not getting any younger. However, when that precious newborn is swaddled in your arms, you don’t really remember the pain. Yes, it hurts like crazy to push something the size of a watermelon out of an area the size of a grape. Was it because of ego? Were we just being cheap? Why did we put ourselves through such torture? I liken it to childbirth. After several days of boxing and unboxing, dismantling and reassembling beds and dressers, and carrying living room furniture that was originally delivered by big, burly men, we hurt in places we didn’t know existed. Well, my husband and I did something that we said we wouldn’t do ever again … we moved ourselves into our new home. This morning, I woke up asking myself this question: How long have I lived in denial? You may wonder how this question came to be. A 50th birthday cake for that special someone.