It's 9AM.
Simple is better.
Two slices of white bread.
Slab of brisket.
Two dollops of Duke’s mayo.
And a glass of grape Kool–Aid.
It’s funny how the memory of a taste comes up every now and then.
For me, it’s guv’ment cheese and gov’ment bologna.
A single mom so po’ we couldn’t even afford the “or” at times gave us opportunities not presented to those hoity toity people living paycheck to paycheck.
Mom always joked we had too much month left after the end of payday.
But we were gifted in other ways.
Like big blocks of red wax wrapped sharp cheddar and huge bologna rolls.
Buy a loaf of Safeway white bread and whichever brand of mayo was on sale and we were living fancy.
I remember that cheese tasted so strong.
I can’t find it’s like to this day, and I search a lot of cheeses.
The bologna had flavor.
I buy some every now and then today and it tastes plain.
Bland.
Gray.
The guy with the first name that’s O-S-C-A-R saved a 1/20 of a penny cutting out the pepper and spice.
But am I just remembering it being better than it was?
Just the flavor.
Not the circumstances.
I’m in a group on Facebook that asks if you Remember Old Pine Bluff and every so often, someone posts a picture or a memory of how great the good old day were.
Swimming in clear water that’s gone murky and muddy now.
Lessons learned in beautiful old houses now gone to cleared foundation or worse.
Picnics in parks with green grass and parades down Main Street with thousands in attendance.
Plus the cafes and blue plates and lunch counters that are no more.
Just words in a post where people talk about what once was.
There’s a line in a tv show where someone suggested “I wish there was a way to know you were in the good old days when you were in them.”
I thought it was poignant.
And a bit fatalistic.
Because I think the future is full of promise.
I don’t worry about global warming because I know the earth is greener today than it was in the 70’s by a factor of over 50%.
That means we’re growing more food to feed more people.
And we’re learning how to grow better food.
But I miss some of the things about the good old days, and I’ve talked about those before.
People forgot how to grow their own food and keep their own small livestock in the backyard.
My neighbors has emerald green grass that looks like it should be on a golf course.
He cuts it every Thursday, spending three hours in the afternoon mowing, edging, sweeping, and trimming.
No birds will land in his yard.
He hates my grass.
It’s got clover in it, and a few wildflowers on the edges.
I see rabbits almost every morning.
When it storms, the water rushes over both of our front yards because we’re at the bottom of a long slow hill, and the shallow space to the lake runs along the property line between us.
His grass fills the lake with chemicals and fertilizer every time it rains.
And he has complained to me that the lake used to be a clearwater before “all these houses” were built.
Back in the good old days.
We are the architects of our own complaint system.
Because the people posting in the better days groups have all left the town they bemoan in its current state.
They didn’t stay and introduce their kids to the way of life they grew up with, because they wanted to get out of the town they grew up in.
For whatever reason.
Opportunity.
More money.
A different way of life.
For me, I left because the town felt small and I wanted more.
Now, I spend my time thinking about how to make the town better and following along the groups doing the hard work and heavy lifting.
From afar.
I try to introduce some of the things from my childhood to my children sometimes.
Bologna sandwich picnics.
RC cola and Moon Pie sunshine breaks.
We cruised Cherry Street one night a long time ago, but we were the only car there, except for the one behind us riding my ass because we were going so slow.
My kids encouraged me to go faster.
I don’t think everything was better when we were younger.
I think our expectations were tempered and kids have this amazing knack for living in the “now.”
Not worried about how tomorrow might be better.
And definitely not concerned with good old days.
Just the here.
Only the now.
It is an amazing gift that some lose as we get older.
The simple act of enjoying the now.
Like a brisket sandwich with the world’s greatest mayonnaise.
What makes your now better?
I won’t open up a food trailer because of my long to do list, but the brisket sandwich would make a good one. Like an In and Out Burger menu with just one item on the menu.
And mustard. Some people just enjoy the heaven that is mayo on their bread.
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I loved this reminiscence of your youth. We, too, ate “low on the hog” at our house when I was a kid. These days, due to a few dietary concerns tied to my age, I spend more time reading ingredient lists that ever in my life. It’s certainly not something we did as kids. I know, because of some conversations with my parents several years ago, they never investigated our foods on any kind of granular level. “Living in the now” perfectly describes my youth, and is especially true when it came to food. I would trade just about anything in my fridge or pantry for some ring bologna and hard cheese from the “little store” at the other end of the alley behind our house. Maybe memory sweetens with time...or maybe it just really tasted better.
My family makes the now better. We laugh a lot and, while we argue like any family, I passed along my Ozark Mountain upbringing to my children which teaches family is everything. My 7 brothers and I grew apart in our early adulthood and two of them are now deceased, but I fostered the importance of standing beside your family in my own children, even though I failed at it. My son asked me once why he should help his brother with his math when he was mad at him for stealing a toy and breaking it. I told him that the relationship he has now will make all the difference in the future and one day, he might need his brother's help even if they haven't spoken in years. I explained that his brother will remember that he helped him even in his anger. I miss the mountains. We were desperately poor but we laughed, loved and worked equally hard beside one another. I'm proud to say that my children have been far more successful in their relationships than I am in mine. I guess maybe I haven't failed as completely as I thought and neither did my own parents.