As one hits one’s eighties there are more memories than years ahead. There are memories of weddings, births, first days of school, friendships, childhood, grandparents long gone, and moves and places lived. These are great until they begin to have a rosy glow cast over them that did not exist in the moment they occurred. Do we remember that darling baby that did not sleep through the night for what seemed like years? Do we remember the house that had more cockroaches than New York has people? Do we remember the first job interview in which the interviewer felt confident in asking what one’s birth control method was?
What brings this to mind is the current angst over interest rates. Will they really climb to 5% or higher? I am having trouble with this problem as our first townhouse, bought in 1970, had a mortgage rate of 81/2% and we were glad it was not higher. In fact, one of our friends a few years later had a rate of 17% on their house. There is no rosy glow to diffuse these numbers.
Yet some of the things we remember are relevant to today. We remember the upheavals of the 60s, the Vietnam War, the McCarthy hearings, the beginnings of the civil rights movement and the introduction of Medicare. We can even touch World War II in which our parents and grandparents served.
Perhaps the solution is to live quietly today in the world not of our making,and never let the phrase ‘It was better in my childhood’ pass our lips.
