RANT

By definition, a ‘Rant’ is speaking or writing in an angry or emotionally charged manner. I don’t know if I’m angry or emotional but I am worn out from rants that glorify the ‘Good Old Days’ at the expense of the ‘Good New Days.’ Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of rant worthy flaws in the ways people behave but the cheap shots are just that. 

Some of my FaceBook friends have nothing better to do than search the internet for clever or biased points of view and post them on FB. ‘Aunty Acid’ is a cartoon character from greeting cards and the internet who turns up on my FB page frequently. Her caustic wit is consistent with an underlying message that lauds old ways and faults whatever is current. She is the perfect example of ‘Displaced Aggression.’ She is angry because she is old and takes it out on the young. There is a famous quote that surfaces from time to time denouncing youth; “Children now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise.” It is attributed to Socrates, over 2500 years ago. Times change, our toys change, our tools change, we wrinkle up and slow down but remain stuck in an old rut, with a comfort zone the size of a postage stamp.

I really liked the ‘Old Days’, they weren’t better but I was. If I wanted the perfect apple from the highest branch I could monkey myself up the tree, hang on with one hand and pluck the fruit with the other. Whatever I aspired to I had a future with plenty of time to succeed, or to fail and begin again. Now I have in its place a ‘History', a long story instead of far reaching possibility. Thirty years from now, these new days will be my grandchildren’s ‘Good Old Days.’ They may go nostalgic over ‘Rap’ music, ‘Twitter’ and Taco Bell. Yesterday a friend in Argentina posted another Aunty A. cartoon. Aunty ranted that when she was young people played outside instead of texting, that you ate what Mom prepared or went hungry; that she missed those simpler times. I replied with a comment; “When I was young we lived under a tree. Mom didn’t cook anything because fire hadn’t been invented yet so we ate dead squirrels and bony fish, raw, and played with the bones. I miss those simpler days.” That was my little rant. I don’t miss the electric motor with belts and pulleys on my dentist’s drill or the big needle and the maybe-yes maybe-no novocaine from 1960. I don’t miss AM radio or tobacco smoke in every room and I prefer people who earn my respect rather than demanding it, just because of an age gradient. 

It’s early on a Monday morning; I have the attic fan going with the windows open and I can hear wrens chattering in my back yard. My mother used to chatter with the wrens through her kitchen window. I miss my Mom but the wren/chatter is just as sweet now as then. The banana and blue berries I had for breakfast please me as much as Mom’s cooking. My GPS and Bluetooth telephone in my dashboard make driving nice; but then I’m not looking for adventure behind the wheel. I’lll take the ‘Good New Day’ with a grin and not squabble over the ones we left behind.