While recovering last week from some fairly minor surgery that presented some extraordinary healing challenges, I apparently had enough time on my hands to talk myself into quite the pity party.
I started thinking about the days when it would have taken me five hours to bounce back, not five days. I remembered when a pair of high heels and tube of lipstick made me look and feel like a million bucks. And, the more I thought about all those things the past offered that the present doesn’t, the more I longed for the days when the world was a simpler place.
I think I’d like to return to the 1950s. I want to put my hair in a pony tail and roll up the cuffs of my jeans, wear penny loafers and bobby socks and big skirts with crinoline petticoats.
I want to have a slumber party and play rock ‘n’ roll on a turntable. I want to cruise Main Street and wave at the boys. I want to visit a drive-in restaurant, drink root beer from a glass mug and have a hamburger and fries and not worry about what havoc that might play with my cholesterol.
I want to watch Elvis on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and determine for myself whether or not he wiggles too much when he sings.
I used to think the teachers were all too hard, that I’d never graduate, and that the only thing between me and happily ever after were my folks and a high school diploma. I didn’t know anything about women’s rights, civil rights, the right to life or the right to die.
Then, I grew up.
There were babies and bills. There were riots and demonstrations, and men walking on the moon. There was social movement and political awareness and something called responsible citizenship.
There were cold wars and real wars that made headlines. I found out about lies, political assassination, social disease and buying on credit.
I want to push my default button and go back to the times before designer drugs and computer viruses. I want mainstream media to tell us only the facts and let us form our own opinions.
We have come so far. We have gained too little and sacrificed so much along the way.
I want to turn in my driver’s license, my voter registration card, and my social security card. I want to forget about political correctness and social consciousness and return to the age of innocence when the only thing I had to worry about was how high to tease my hair and not missing the next “American Bandstand.”
Linda Brown is marketing director for The Ottawa Herald. Email her at email@example.com