World Cup Games on VHS

Day 323: World Cup Games on VHS

When I was a kid my grandfather used to tell stories about the way things were when he was a boy. Once, he snuck his mother's wool blanket out on a camping trip. The boys made a bonfire on the beach, and the blanket got singed. He hid it in the bottom of the cedar chest, but the smell of smoke led her to it. Boy, did he get a whipping! Imagine that: ten-year-old boys camping on Lake Michigan, alone with a bonfire. Another time, he was riding on a horse-drawn double-decker sleigh in Muskegon. The sleigh crashed; everyone on the bottom died, but he was thrown clear. Back in those days, he said, a Baby Ruth bar the size of a football only cost five cents.

When my grandfather was a boy, the stars throbbed in the sky like pinholes to heaven. People went to bed when the sun set, and got up with the sun rose in the morning. The city streets were mostly unpaved; sometimes, they were paved in slippery red brick. Bicycles were new. People bought food from familiar shopkeepers or farmers, and put it in a basket to carry it home. Store bought bread was a special treat.

I got a look at my grandfather's college application a couple weeks ago, pulled from the archives at the Bentley Historical Library. Handwritten, and including a self-assessment of his intellectual capabilities, industry, and scholastic achievement. A couple of sentences about the latest book he'd read, and a postage stamp sized photograph of himself.

When I was growing up, I felt so modern. My grandfather never had t.v.! Not even a radio! No telephone! He didn't have a car! Didn't need one...no interstate! Women couldn't vote, interracial marriage was illegal, and my grandfather played both offense and defense with a real leather helmet and a hand-stitched soft leather ball!

Now I have teenagers, and in their eyes, my own childhood is as quaint and obsolete as my grandfather's was to me. Remember how exciting it was to go to the video store, choose whatever movie you wanted to see, and bring it home to watch it? Remember when a 50 pound personal computer that wouldn't quite fit in the trunk of your car replaced that old manual typewriter, and your word processor allowed you to edit without having to retype the whole thing? Remember when answering machines allowed people to leave a message, even when you weren't at home? Remember when cable t.v. gave you better reception and no advertising?

Wow, that was cool!

Suddenly, I'm more sympathetic to my grandmother, who used always to tell us about her friends and their diseases. Every kid's favorite topic. The days tick past, and I don't notice that wrinkles are a little deeper, or knees a little creakier, or hair a little grayer. Mine, and yours. But lately, I've been to more funerals than in my whole life before. My friends' parents are getting sick, or dying. Once or twice, it's my own friends who are sick, or dying.

The older generation is the front line. I've been soldiering away in the back phalanx, taking it one day at a time. Soccer practices, oil changes, breakfast, vaccinations, budget season, choir performances, Christmas, grocery shopping, car trips, thank you notes, elliptical machine, solitaire, haircuts, diaper changes, yoga classes, driver's training, weddings, coffee dates, trips to the library, toilet plunging, junk mail, cooking, sleep.

And now the front lines are starting to falter, and it's sad, and it's scary, and it's just life. Moving and moving on, like a river. Always changing. Always the same.