Sitting around a fire with a couple of friends – yes, you may be surprised to learn that I have a few – the other night evoked yet another frenzy of yarns from times gone by.
The fish were bigger than last time, and everything else louder, angrier, higher. You get the picture.
There comes a point you start to believe your own hype.
Conversation ultimately turns to “the good old days”. In actual fact, the “good old days” as we now know them quite often weren’t that great.
We’d be broke, fighting with some sod about something I can’t bother to recall, looking for work, falling in and out of love, hating work, drinking too much, waking up too late.
As I reflected on the night of reflection, a couple of things occurred to me.
The thing that made the old days so great was that we were creating our future. Not all of it went right, but we were willing to dive right in there to give it a go.
When things went belly up, we’d turn to each other. And that’s what created the stories we share today. The way we helped each other – whether it be a fishing trip or some other adventure – became the yarn, and the fact it was “us” is what makes it “good”.
No matter how old we are, the creations of today will become the stories of tomorrow. There will be a time – regardless of how old we are – that the troubles of today will be known as the “good old days”.
Take this whole pandemic malarkey. Don’t get me wrong, it’s serious stuff, and history will no doubt have it wrapped as a dark period.
Those who outlive it however, will look back at how they conquered it. We’ll share those stories with those we turned to and recall fondly how we stuck it out together.
And as I thought myself into a deep slumber, I woke with another brainwave. Maybe we could see the present through a lens that has a slightly rosier tinge to it.
Maybe now isn’t so bad after all, because those who are close to us are still there to turn to. What if we were to trick ourselves into thinking now are the good times?
Before you turn on me with the “psycho-babble” speech, I’ll try to explain it a little more clearly.
I’m little more than a cranky old man. I get angry about things I know I shouldn’t waste time with. Then I start thinking that time’s all I have, and that makes me even more angry.
So I walk over to Wanda and I ask her to dinner. We agree we should be somewhere creating a memory.
Next time we’re around the campfire, we’ll be looking to last week for our “good old days”.
The fish of days gone by will keep getting bigger, and everything else brighter and bolder. That’s the fun of it, and what makes us laugh. It’s exactly why we call them the “good old days”.
Not because they were better times than now. Because they continue to make us happy after all this time.
