Growing up I would sit around in Indiana with my dad and listen to the farmers, with their manure-clad boots and bibbed-overalls unbuttoned on the side, talk about the good old days. Everything was better back then. Crop was a better price, the wheat yielded more, music was purer, the girls were prettier (pronouned purtier). Well, maybe it was just the facts that their wives were prettier 40 years ago becasue things were not saggy yet. But they seemed to have this almost magical memory of what is use to be like.
Well call me crazy and lock me up, but back in the good old days, farmers plowed with horses. Do you have any idea of how long that would take? Or the smell? Now we have tractors and plows. You just have to sit and ride (not to mention some even have air conditioned cabs)! Back in the good old days there was no running water -- HELLO!! Must I even mention the ramifications of this? I THINK NOT!
But somehow, while I was sitting there with my dad and the farmers, something must have happened to me. Someting must have been branded into my genetic coding. The brainwashing was beiginning early on and I did not even know. But I was musing upon the good old days today. It all started this morning when my middle child wanted to watch "Racing Stripes" on DVD. Being the good mother that I am, I did not hesitate to pop in a DVD so I could go check out my myspace and eat my homemade cinnamon roll in peace. So the stupid thing took forever to play, then it was skipping, and in the end I could not even to get it to play. I began this hidious game of cleaning it, rotating it, blowing on it, and even giving it the motherly "evil eye". But to no avail. Then I reminised on the Good Old Days -- The Days of VHS. Ah, you could throw those things across the room, step on them, bite on them, we have even had an incident where on my children PEED on it, yet still it survives. Ready to complete it's duty. Nothing can stop it. It is like an American Soldier -- ever viligent and unstoppable. That VHS may have endured horrindous torture, may have even been Missing In Action but he never forgets his mission -- he is there to protect all us mothers from the hostile take over of dirty clothes, nasty diapers, and snotty noses. Just when all hope seems lost the VHS arrives. Like a true American Hero -- VHS is there! This cannot be said for DVD. Ah, the good old days.