Can you imagine?
This is not a good poem, not even a real poem. I was just thinkin'...
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of things back in the day we call yesteryear
I'm first to admit some changes are good
Some things should have stayed where they already stood.
In the year 1800 no public libraries here
The first would not open for fifty more years.
Only six in a hundred had left home for the cities,
And the rest in the country where life could get gritty.
Milk was not everywhere as it is now
And country folks almost all owned their very own cow.
Most dairy farms had, like, twenty-five cows
And milk was still served as it came from the cow.
Remember these facts of the growth of a nation
From 1800 to now, roughly eight generations!
Though Egyptians and Romans knew how to heat houses
It fell by the way till a thousand years later
And it was 1857 saw the first radiator.
Circa 1840 the telegraph allowed news to be spread
The first transatlantic, 1861. Telegrams always brought dread.
Before 1900, had you somewhere to go
You could travel on foot till your butt was draggin'
Or if you were elite, by horse-drawn wagon.
In that year, 1492 Americans owned cars,
Less than 20% ran on gas, the rest electric or steam.
And their own car, for most, was only a dream.
1929 the Great Depression which my own parents saw.
World War Two, once again saw the whole world at war.
My father loaded bombs on planes over in England
My mom worked for Sylvania, back here in our homeland
Before that almost all women stayed home to raise children.
1953, two years after my birth, wringer washers (look it up) gave way to the Maytag.
It was much easier now to wash all your glad rags.
There were clothes dryers before that, metal drums with holes, but a joke!
Hand-cranked over open fires, your clothes all smelled of smoke.
By the year 1950 two-thirds of America owned one phone,
But most were party lines, so you could not talk alone.
Ancient history? No, honey, it was just yesterday.
Sit down and imagine, strain your brain, think hard,
And envision the world as it recently was.
No cars, computers, cell phones, MacBooks
No plastic surgery, stuck with your looks.
No plastic ANYTHING for most of all history,
No plastic bags, plastic bottles, plastic toys, plastic smiles.
A front porch wasn't a place between you and the car
But in summer, the place where all the families are.
Soft drinks were a rarity, found at a gas station in a water-filled chest
The bottled drink came out dripping, but cold, and the BEST.
And you pulled off the cap with an opener set into the chest.
Back porch was for evenings and the neighbors would meet
To hand-crank homemade ice cream, creamy and sweet.
In season, made with peaches pulled from a tree,
Or strawberries or raspberries or just sugar and cream.
They might bring guitars, harmonicas, spoons
Or they'd take turns telling stories and look at the moon.
The kids played in the yard, caught fireflies in jars
And nobody worried -'they won't have gone far.'
I would not want to go back, deal with smallpox that killed.
But how sweet to have lived then when such simple things thrilled.
It's good that we've moved on to learning to live
With people not like us, but with so much to give.
Yet I grow so nostalgic when something reminds
Of the days that stretched on, with nothing but time.
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of things back in the day we call yesteryear
I'm first to admit some changes are good
Some things should have stayed where they already stood.
In the year 1800 no public libraries here
The first would not open for fifty more years.
Only six in a hundred had left home for the cities,
And the rest in the country where life could get gritty.
Milk was not everywhere as it is now
And country folks almost all owned their very own cow.
Most dairy farms had, like, twenty-five cows
And milk was still served as it came from the cow.
Remember these facts of the growth of a nation
From 1800 to now, roughly eight generations!
Though Egyptians and Romans knew how to heat houses
It fell by the way till a thousand years later
And it was 1857 saw the first radiator.
Circa 1840 the telegraph allowed news to be spread
The first transatlantic, 1861. Telegrams always brought dread.
Before 1900, had you somewhere to go
You could travel on foot till your butt was draggin'
Or if you were elite, by horse-drawn wagon.
In that year, 1492 Americans owned cars,
Less than 20% ran on gas, the rest electric or steam.
And their own car, for most, was only a dream.
1929 the Great Depression which my own parents saw.
World War Two, once again saw the whole world at war.
My father loaded bombs on planes over in England
My mom worked for Sylvania, back here in our homeland
Before that almost all women stayed home to raise children.
1953, two years after my birth, wringer washers (look it up) gave way to the Maytag.
It was much easier now to wash all your glad rags.
There were clothes dryers before that, metal drums with holes, but a joke!
Hand-cranked over open fires, your clothes all smelled of smoke.
By the year 1950 two-thirds of America owned one phone,
But most were party lines, so you could not talk alone.
Ancient history? No, honey, it was just yesterday.
Sit down and imagine, strain your brain, think hard,
And envision the world as it recently was.
No cars, computers, cell phones, MacBooks
No plastic surgery, stuck with your looks.
No plastic ANYTHING for most of all history,
No plastic bags, plastic bottles, plastic toys, plastic smiles.
A front porch wasn't a place between you and the car
But in summer, the place where all the families are.
Soft drinks were a rarity, found at a gas station in a water-filled chest
The bottled drink came out dripping, but cold, and the BEST.
And you pulled off the cap with an opener set into the chest.
Back porch was for evenings and the neighbors would meet
To hand-crank homemade ice cream, creamy and sweet.
In season, made with peaches pulled from a tree,
Or strawberries or raspberries or just sugar and cream.
They might bring guitars, harmonicas, spoons
Or they'd take turns telling stories and look at the moon.
The kids played in the yard, caught fireflies in jars
And nobody worried -'they won't have gone far.'
I would not want to go back, deal with smallpox that killed.
But how sweet to have lived then when such simple things thrilled.
It's good that we've moved on to learning to live
With people not like us, but with so much to give.
Yet I grow so nostalgic when something reminds
Of the days that stretched on, with nothing but time.
