Amy's Neck of the Woods: Nostalgic Saturdays

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ksWKOy665o

I find Saturday mornings to be nostalgic. This feeling comes over me most intensely during late spring and early summer. I remember open windows, the sound of the clothes dryer running, the smell of dryer sheets from the outside dryer vent, Saturday morning cartoons, and my mom cooking.

On this particular spring Saturday morning, I'm sitting here watching it snow, through my closed windows, and watching Bob Ross on PBS. I had this thought of a whole generation or two of younger folks that might not even know who he is. The thought makes me sad. There are few things more relaxing than watching and listening to Bob Ross as he effortlessly paints gorgeous landscapes. There's a soothing quality to his voice that sort of sends me into a tranquil trance. I'm proud to say that my children know well who Bob Ross is. I started to wonder why it is that I know his show so well. I don't remember my parents sitting down to watch it much. It boils down to this: we didn't have cartoons or kid shows available to us 24/7. We got about five TV stations on our antenna, and we either liked what was on, or we went outside (or read a book if you were my sister.) I loved spending my time outside, but Bob Ross was a highlight of the week for me. His show came on PBS on Saturdays, and I couldn't wait to see what he would paint each week.

I heard a song this week that I'd heard many times before but never really listened to. It's called "Automatic," and it's sung by Miranda Lambert. I'm obsessed with it now. It evokes a longing in me for simpler times. It makes me sad for what this world has lost by gaining so many new things. Isn't there a way for us to go back?? The irony of me writing about this in a blog isn't lost on me. I realize that the very technology that I wrestle with is the means for my sharing these thoughts. The song talks about so many aspects of life that today would feel like inconveniences, but I still find myself wishing to go back to them. Here are just a few...

"Quarter in a payphone".... Well, I remember when it was a dime. Payphones could be found all over town, even a town as small as ours. I remember walking aimlessly all over town with my friends, just for something to do. I didn't live in town, either. My parents would take us to town and drop us off. They didn't know where all we were going, and I don't think they worried too much about it. It was safe. We were young. Twelve. We'd wear our Keds without socks and wear blisters on our heels from walking so much. When we were ready to go home, we'd find a payphone and call one of our parents to come and get us.

"Drying laundry on the line".... We had a clothesline in our back yard. White with green plastic-coated wire. My mom didn't line dry much. My grandma, on the other hand, line dried nearly everything! I'd like to know just how long her multiple clotheslines were. It seemed like miles to me. She had this old hanger covered in material with two big pockets at the bottom, filled with clothespins. She'd hang it on the line and slide it along as she hung out every kind of laundry you can imagine. There's a certain smell that comes from line drying laundry, a freshness. Sure; your sheets feel stiff and rough for a few days, but that smell was worth it.

" Seems like only yesterday I'd get a blank cassette, record the country countdown 'cause I couldn't buy it yet".... We weren't a rich family, but we never wanted for much, either. We were not spoiled with tons of toys and gadgets. If we wanted something, we waited for a birthday or Christmas and asked for it. As such, my love for music wasn't indulged with new records or cassettes just whenever I wanted one. If I wanted to own a copy of a song, I took a blank cassette, hit Record and Pause on my stereo, and waited for it to come on the radio. Inevitably, the DJ would talk over the beginning or end, but it was better than nothing.

"Let's roll the windows down, windows with the cranks".... There's a certain excitement one gets from trying to frantically hand crank a car window up when a sudden downpour hits. Our living room windows at home even had little handles you'd attach to crank them open.

"Come on, let's take a picture, the kind you gotta shake".... I remember our first Polaroid camera. Talk about high-tech! Instant pictures. You just had to sit there and wave them around for a couple of minutes while the image slowly appeared. This was truly amazing to me. I had grown up in a home with a camera that took 110 film and had a flash bulb stick that had to be replaced whenever it was used up. We'd drop our film off at a little film booth and wait a week to see what we got. My dad loved to harass my mom about how many pictures would have a portion of her finger in them. We were all so excited when Photo Genie came along and introduced the 1-hour developing, back before Walmart was the end-all be-all retailer.

"Hey whatever happened to waiting your turn, doing it all by hand?
'Cause when everything is handed to you, it's only worth as much as the time put in.
It all just seems so good the way we had it, back before everything became automatic."

I couldn't agree more. The easier everything becomes, the less value it has. I'm really considering taking a new approach to daily living this summer. I want more open windows, sweet-smelling laundry, music in the background, dirty hands, salty residue of dried sweat. I want less hum of devices, "social" media distraction, idle hands. Are you with me?