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I seem to hear far too often people referring to the “good old days” in their daily conversations and storytelling.  These “good old days” are usually painted in perfect shades of breezy blues with blooming flowers and blankets of sunshine warming the skies.   There is nary a hint of gray to be found anywhere in those reminiscing the “good old days.” 

The implication of course is that things were much better in the “good old days” than they are in the present day.   I hate to be the proverbial booger in the punch bowl, but this line of thinking has always gotten under my skin and does not really hold up under scrutiny.  It seems to me that what people are actually remembering are only the good parts of those good old days, and somehow forgetting the many not-so-good parts of those same good old days. 

Tell me this.  Were the days of drinking lead infused water straight from the tap really better than  having dozens of clean and chlorine free bottled water options available to choose from?  I mean, who needs Google when one could march down to the library and spend the day sorting through the Dewey Decimal System in search of info on their desired subject.   The internet is probably just a fad anyway.   

In all seriousness, I am on board with the fact there are bits and pieces of the old days that were better than present day.  Whether it be a more patriotic nation or a more polite way to interact with your neighbors, there is much good to be referenced from days’ past.   As an aside, I am beginning to think there is some sort of mathematical equation that states the older one gets, the more one will refer to and long to speak of those “good old days”.   

I strongly believe, however, that those memories conjured from the old days get buffed out, glossed over and edited until they are just right to reminisce on and flaunt about.  Remember for a moment that smoking sections on planes were the norm in the good old days and hunting down a pay phone was the most efficient way to alert someone when you were running late.  I would rather leave the house having forgotten to brush my teeth than the nakedness I feel when having forgotten my cell phone, so in my humble assessment searching about for a pay phone is really not indicative of the “good old days”.  And do we really want to watch our movies and sports on a 15-inch Zenith with only three channels offered in the name of the “good old days” when HD flat screens the size of your car’s windshield are available?   

Speaking of cars, I love power steering, seat warmers and having my SUV talk to me when I am lost or need directions.  I’m just not ready to manually roll up my car windows and use my lap as a drink holder again.   This reasoning does not just apply to the tech savvy younger generation either.  I mean, is there a Baby Boomer in America that doesn’t sleep a little sounder with the knowledge that Viagra is now an option if needed?    

Generally speaking, it seems far too easy to toss out a blanket statement exalting what was rather than what is.  I think parents in particular take comfort in moralizing to their young about a better time gone by.  But I am also pretty certain that the parents of these parents preached the exact same thing.  So now who to believe?  Were the really old days better than the old days, or were the old days better than the really old days?     

What exactly is the point here?  Perhaps it is that generalizing about “the good old days” is largely non sensible and usually quite innacurate.  A sharper mind would sit the good old days right alongside the smelly and progress-less days to help all that are listening better understand the “good old days” were average at best, or not very good at all.        

I am not 100 percent certain of much on this winding journey through life, but there is indeed one aspect that I can state to everyone with absolute certainty, and that is at some point in the future, my own old days, which are actually present day, will evoke some wistful nostalgia infused point of view leading me to speak of, and tell stories to my children about, how great it was in the “good old days.” 

My wife and I found ourselves watching the VH1 show “Celebrity Rehab” the other night (the reason why is another story altogether) and came across a scene which provoked an oddly familiar emotion. The episode featured Mackenzie Phillips (Yes, “One Day at a Time” Mackenzie Phillips) hearing news that her beloved dog, of which had already been struggling with diabetes, had also just been diagnosed with terminal cancer and was going to need to be put down. 

The entire circumstance was extremely difficult for me to watch, as I am a dog owner and am admittedly pretty extreme when it comes to my love for them.   Watching this little story unfold was fairly upsetting to be sure, but there was one clip in particular that is seared into my memory and undoubtedly will stay there for many years to come. 

The gist of the scene is more or less Mackenzie letting her dog, which she adored so-so much, blissfully scarf down a tub of Haagan-Dazs ice cream as a kind of last meal prior to the unthinkable next step.   Mackenzie shares with those in the room that her dog had always loved ice cream, but he had not been able to eat it in recent years as a result of the diabetes.   If you’ve been around dogs at all, you know exactly just how thrilled and contented this little guy looked while lapping down this tub of yummy ice cream.  At that moment, he was the happiest dog around and obviosuly completely oblivious of his pending fate. 

I had been pretty well choked up and even fighting back some tears for the entire segment featuring the dog, but like a dam being broken under the pressure of water, the lump in my throat escalated into what could only be described as an out and out sob during the ice cream scene.   I was not only overcome with emotion, but I was also absolutely stunned at my reaction.  Sure I am a dog lover and sure the site of a very sick dog is sad, but I am also an adult who is supposed to have a certain amount of control over his emotions at this point in life.  I mean, I am a grown man who is not supposed to break out into an all out sob when watching a show on TV, let alone watching VH1’s “Celebrity Rehab”. 

My reaction got me thinking about whether or not if the dying dog had been replaced with say her dying grandma, or a dying sister battling cancer, would it have sparked a similar level of emotion?   I so wanted to answer yes to this question, but the alarming truth is that it would have probably only provoked a mild degree of compassion and not too much more,  which for obvious reasons seems to be completely backwards.  I mean, what sort of horrible creature am I that the prospect of a dog dying produces a greater degree of emotional sadness than that of a fellow human being?  What in the name of all that is holy is wrong with me?

Before getting too much more upset with myself, I turned to my wife to see how she was feeling about all this.  Mind you, my wife is generally a much nicer and far less cynical person than I could ever hope to be.  Upon asking what her thoughts were about all this, she was so choked up that she could barely spit out an audible answer and tears were soon to follow. 

I started thinking about this more and more when I finally realized that this is not at all unusual for us.  For better or worse, my wife and I watch a fair amount of true story crime shows on TV, movies and even the local news where people are suffering and dying on almost a daily basis.  It is rare indeed that either one of us will be distressed to any sort of meaningful degree when viewing such.  However, if we come across a sight such as say a thoroughbred breakings its leg in a horse race or a K9 police dog being shot in the line of duty, you can pretty much count on the fact we’ll be wimpering in some form or fashion.    

If this dynamic were limited to just me alone, it might be a bit easier for me to wrap my head around, but my wife and several others I have since asked all report a very similar sort of misplaced empathy.  To be sure, I reflect upon this difficult to explain phenomenon quite often these days, and not once have I come up with what I feel is a suitable answer as to why.