A little house with three rooms and one car on the street.
A mower that you had to push to make the grass look neat.

Store-bought snacks were rare because my mother liked to cook,
And nothing can compare to snacks in Betty Crocker's book.

Weekends were for family trips or staying home to play,
We all did things together -- even go to church to pray.



When we did our weekend trips depending on the weather,
No one stayed at home because we liked to be together.



Sometimes we would separate to do things on our own,
But we knew where the others were without our own cell phone.

Then there were the movies with your favorite movie star,
And nothing can compare to watching movies in your car.



Then there were the picnics at the peak of summer season,
Pack a lunch and find some trees and never need a reason.



Get a baseball game together with all the friends you know,
Have real action playing ball -- and no game video.



Remember when the doctor used to be the family friend,
And didn't need insurance or a lawyer to defend?

The way that he took care of you or what he had to do,
Because he took an oath and strived to do the best for you.

Remember going to the store and shopping casually,
And when you went to pay for it you used your own money?



Nothing that you had to swipe or punch in some amount,
Remember when the cashier person had to really count?



The milkman used to go from door to door,
And it was just a few cents more than going to the store

In the kitchen on the wall we only had one phone,
And no need for recording things, someone was always home.



We only had a living room where we would congregate,
Unless it was at mealtime in the kitchen where we ate.



We had no need for family rooms or extra rooms to dine,
When meeting as a family those two rooms would work out fine.



We only had one TV set, and channels maybe two,
But always there was one of them with something worth the view.

For snacks we had potato chips that tasted like a chip,
And if you wanted flavor there was Lipton's onion dip.




every store.

The mailman knew each house by name and knew where it was sent;
There were not loads of mail addressed to "present occupant."



There was a time when just one glance was all that it would take,
And you would know the kind of car, the model and the make.






They didn't look like turtles trying to squeeze out every mile;
They were streamlined, white walls, fins, and really had some style.















One time the music that you played whenever you would jive,
Was from a vinyl, big-holed record called a forty-five.



The record player had a post to keep them all in line,
And then the records would drop down and play one at a time.



Oh sure, we had our problems then, just like we do today,
And always we were striving, trying for a better way.

Oh, the simple life we lived still seems like so much fun,
How can you explain a game, just kick the can and run?



And why would boys put baseball cards between bicycle spokes,
And for a nickel red machines had little bottled Cokes?











This life seemed so much easier and slower in some ways,
I love the new technology but I sure miss those days.

So time moves on and so do we, and nothing stays the same,
But I sure love to reminisce and walk down memory lane.

Sorry! 'no pictures, but I'm sure as you read you'll paint your own pictures in your mind of the good'ol days

This message has been edited. Last edited by: terry,

Brings back a lot of good memories. Thanks

I think it's cause they weren't raised this away.

Reading this makes me look forward to getting old! (er!!!!)
My daughter sent this to me, like she understands what it's like to grow old. Someone 'of 39 years' acting like they understand-the nerve of that girl just kidding. She has no idea how close she came to nailing some of the ways "i do feel" but I don't dare tell her. Anything you say can & will be used against you, she proved that a long time ago when I tried to tell her what to do.
Please note: forwarded message attached





I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 &70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.



I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.

They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.



I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face..
So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.



As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore.
I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever,
But while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be.. And I shall eat dessert every single day(if I feel like it).

************************
I never had heard this before. Great story!
A DREAMER AND HIS DREAM

Let me tell you, Jesse hated this job. And you would too, I imagine, if
you had to do it. Jesse was a chicken plucker. That's right.

He stood on a line in a chicken factory and spent his days pulling
the feathers off dead chickens so the rest of us wouldn't have to.
It wasn't much of a job. But at the time, Jesse didn't think he was
much of a person.

His father was a brute of a man. His dad was actually thought to be
mentally ill and treated Jesse rough all of his life.

Jesse's older brother wasn't much better. He was always picking on
Jesse and beating him up.

Yes, Jesse grew up in a very rough home in West Virginia.
Life was anything but easy. And he thought life didn't hold much
hope for him. That's why he was standing in this chicken line, doing
a job that darn few people wanted.

In addition to all the rough treatment at home, it seems that Jesse was
always sick. Sometimes it was real physical illness, but way too often
it was all in his head. He was a small child, skinny and meek.
That sure didn't help the situation any.

When he started to school, he was the object of every bully on the playground.
He was a hypochondriac of the first order. For Jesse, tomorrow was not always
something to be looked forward to.

But, he had dreams. He wanted to be a ventriloquist. He found books on
ventriloquism. He practiced with sock puppets and saved his hard earned
dollars until he could get a real ventriloquist dummy.

When he got old enough, he joined the military. And even though many of
his hypochondriac symptoms persisted, the military did recognize his talents
and put him in the entertainment corp.

That was when his world changed. He gained confidence. He found that he
had a talent for making people laugh, and laugh so hard they often had tears
in their eyes. Yes, little Jesse had found himself.

You know, folks, the history books are full of people who overcame a
handicap to go on and make a success of themselves, but Jesse is one of the
few I know of who didn't overcome it.

Instead he used his paranoia to make a million dollars, and become one of
the best-loved characters of all time in doing it!

Yes, that little paranoid hypochondriac, who transferred his nervousness
into a successful career, still holds the record for the most Emmy's given
in a single category.

The wonderful, gifted, talented, and nervous comedian who brought us
Barney Fife was Jesse Don Knotts.