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Hundreds of them

Hit me like a ton of bricks

When they come to the forefront

How I long for them

Grandparents, friends, lost loves

The old mall that is torn down

That old hatchback wagon

And classic songs…….

They all have a story attached to them

At least I can go back and play them

And long some more

What is it about yesterdays?

That they can do no wrong

Am I that biased?

Or were they really that perfect?

Why are they so much better than the todays and tomorrows of the world?

And someday…….

Will today (tomorrow’s yesterdays) hold that special place in my heart?


I wake up and miss her terribly

But does she miss me?

Do I even know her?

Does she even exist?

And those places

They’re customized, yet peculiar

Unassociated from anywhere I’ve been

It’s quite perplexing

I wish I were there

But where is there?

Why do I sometimes wish that my alternate reality

Would overpower my authentic one?


What is it about a song

That brings me back 30 years

To a time much simplier

Yet uniquely profound

What makes it so powerful

That I ache for her

Someone who barely registers on my conscious

At almost any other time

How can something so simple as a song

Pummel the emotion right out of me


I go to Pittsburgh

And it’s magical

The streets are lit up like it would in a movie

Like I wish to picture it

I’m in the woods

Where I am happiest

The encounters with the forest creatures are mesmerizing

The memories enthralling

I reconnect with her

My infatuation

Like I’m meeting her for the first time

I wish not to wake up from this

Tiger Stadium

Oh, how I wish I had gone to Tiger Stadium

One of the last of its kind

Opened the same day as Fenway

Back in 1912

Had an open invitation and put it off

Said, “Maybe next year.”

The next years all ran out

Now I can only envision

Ah, the places of yesterday

The hallowed grounds

The cathedrals

Places named Ebbets, Crosley, and Sportsman’s

The horseshoe where Willie made that amazing catch

Where Bobby hit the Shot Heard ‘Round the World

The spite fences at Shibe

Where the Tall Tactician sported a business suit

The real Yankee Stadium

Where Babe rewrote the sport

Lou retired Wally Pipp

And Mantle and Maris in the Summer of ’61

Daytime baseball on a Tuesday

Sun drenched in the bleachers

Memories of Grandpa and Dad

Splurging for a hot dog

Fenway and Wrigley still exist

and are going strong today

Thank God for that

Singlehandedly responsible for linking the present to the past

Back to when our national pastime mattered to everyone

And make no mistake about it…….

Baseball is indeed our national pastime

Lost Ski Area

This placed bustled

A long time ago

For generations they came

Memories made by those who are memories themselves

It’s gone now

A little mountain’s ghost town

Brought on by the perils of progress

It’s demise summed up by its remnants choked into the wild forest all around

Evidence lies within these boundaries

Of its more prosperous place in history

The shattered ruins do nothing to offset what this place meant to someone

At one time


Thoughts of yesteryear

Dancing in my head

Engulfed in depression


These were happy times

Weren’t they?…….

A song make me want to cry

Though the memories attached to it are joyous

If not euphoric

Still, I struggle to listen…….

Reflections of old friends

Our naivety unacquainted

More chronicles forgotten than remembered

I long to go back but cannot

Makes me sad

Even though I can talk to them any time I wish

It’s not the same

I wonder why…….

Grandma’s perfume

Obsolete; the last bottle long since destroyed

Permanent in my head

I would much enjoy to spray it across my room…….

This meatloaf is quite tasty

But it’s not hers

I’ll eat it to be polite

Though I won’t enjoy it…….

My life is pleasurable and fulfilling

I do not need to relive the past

But some days I long to

I wonder if I’m not alone

Time Machine

I had a strange dream the other night. I was on a bus that traveled through a small town. Once the bus was in motion, the view outside of the windows was that of the town in the 1950s. It was like being on a time machine.

What an amazing gift that would be; to see your hometown as it was long ago. Imagine an elderly woman living her final years being able to ride through her neighborhood from childhood. Maybe she met the love of her life in that drug store on the corner. Maybe he took her to that malt shop on their first date. He’s been gone now for 15 years, but on this day, she can be with him again in some way.

He loves to sing. In fact, he honed his skills with his four best friends right there against that lamppost. They branched out from their humble beginnings to become doo wop sensations and tour the world. He’s the only one left now. He and his buddies never lost their affection for this place. He looks out the window and is 16 years old again, dreaming to make it big.

Mom and Dad raised them in this town. They ran the simple red brick grocery store. Six aisles and two cash registers. Open 9-5 Monday through Saturday. Closed Sunday. Their school was right up there on the hill. Inside that very building they received the education that allowed them to leave here and become successful in much bigger places. He was a lawyer in Chicago, she ran several dance studios near Boston. They didn’t make it back home very often, but now wish they did. Today, they get to make up for lost time.

It was just a dream. None of this can really happen. But wouldn’t it be magical to be able to go back into time and remember things how they were, in a time that was so special and innocent?

It really can’t happen, right?


What is it about a dream

The ones that are especially vivid in nature

Where the identities of the characters are unknown

In a storyline that might make partial sense

A strange nostalgia comes over me when I wake up

I wish I were with them instead of my actual reality

The details do not fade for hours, maybe days, weeks…..

Several of my dreams are recurring

Maybe one a week, once a month

Many of the people are good friends of mine

Even though I’ve never met them in real life

Maybe they exist somewhere

Maybe not

I used to go to sleep thinking about a specific dream

Hoping it would come to me that night

It never does

These dreams live on their own timeline

They come when they come

And I am depressed when they end

Old Stuff

I like old stuff

Old songs

Old cars

Old television shows

Old movies

I do enjoy current movies, ESPECIALLY if they’re set in an older time frame

Old morals

Old family values

Remember when the entire family ate dinner together and actually talked???

Old ways of communication

Maybe face to face? Handwritten letters? The old rotary telephone?

How old musical recordings sounded back before the days of auto tune

I’m not entirely shunning new stuff. For instance, I rather enjoy this new laptop I’m writing this post on

But it’s still nowhere near as sexy as the pudgy old newspaper man banging out a story on a typewriter with a stogie hanging out of his mouth, is it?

Need more proof?

Old: The Beatles; New: Justin Bieber

Old: George Jones; New: Florida Georgia Line

Old: MASH New: Here Comes Honey Boo Boo

Old: Ebbets Field New: The current Yankee Stadium

Old: FDR Fireside Chats New: Trump rally

Old: Olde English New: Lol, btw, how ru?

Old: Chasing chicks with one end goal in mind New: Chasing Pokémon with a cell phone

Old: ‘67 Corvette New: Take your pick

Old: Surviving The Great Depression, crawling through a booby trapped foreign jungle, sifting through the rubble of two 110-story buildings hoping for one survivor New: Wearing a mask

Old: 9-5, honest work, reasonable expectations, comfortable wages, closed on Sunday New: Hahahahaha

Old: Chance meeting with your soulmate New: Tinder

Old: 50 plus years of marriage through thick and thin New: Checking out at the first hint of trouble

Old; Work for everything earned New: Entitlement

Old: What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? New: Where is Brian Laundrie?