When does your personal 'way back then' start?

I enjoy sharing memories from my childhood. You readers have probably already realized that. I enjoy telling about some incident, then realize that most of my readers weren't even born yet. I had that experience in reverse once when I was visiting with a wonderful older lady who sang in the choir at the Mt. Washington Church in Independence when I was on the staff and Lester was the minister (or Preach, as one younger friend liked to call Lester). This lady had attended Cottey College in her youth. She was thrilled to find out that Nevada was my hometown. She started naming some of the local people who attended many of the Cottey College functions. Most names I did not know at all. With some ,I recognized the family name but didn't know the delightful young man she was describing. I told her that there was quite a division back then between the country kids and the town kids. That ended that conversation. But the next time I saw her she told me that she realized that she was describing a time before I was born, and apologized for expecting me to know these people who were special in her memory.

That memory didn't cure me from doing the same thing to many of you readers, however. Just this morning I received a cute little video, "Do you remember these?" Of course I remembered them. They were stars of television shows or commercials about the time we bought our first set. We had been married 10 years and were raising our third child when we bought our first television. That baby never lacked being rocked or fed while in my arms. Of course, I had the rocking chair conveniently placed in front of the black and white set.

So, I realized this morning that what I was being nostalgic about were not things from my childhood, but from my children's raising. All these "Father Knows Best" type of shows are part of our collective memories. Phrases like, "We've got to get out of Dodge" or, "Please don't squeeze the Charmin" are easily understood in present day situations.

This reminded me of another experience where I am the "old woman" talking to a young teacher. While we were raising our great-granddaughter I came across a series of books written by Henry Winkler. They were partially autobiographical and told about all the problems he had had in school before they discovered he was dyslexic. I suggested to the middle school librarian that this would be a good set to have in the library, because it dealt with his feelings of being stupid as a child and how successful he had become in his young adulthood. The librarian wasn't familiar with his name. That surprised me since he had been an icon for several years. I said, "Oh, you know, he was the Fonz," and completed my statement with the two thumbs up stance that the Fonz often used. That didn't help her at all. I don't think the school ever bought the books.

I realized that these TV references don't mean much to children who didn't grow up upset because Lassie hadn't come home yet.

I remembered a time when I was still in grade school and my sister Ellen and I were eating at a neighbor's home. The father in that home was very academic, knew several languages and wore the kind of glasses that just pinch onto his nose when he needs them. Naturally the table manners were more evident in that home than in ours just down the street. I liked one of the dishes very much, so I held my plate out to the host and said, "More gruel, please." Ellen kicked me under the table but Dr. Manning was delighted that a child as young as I was could quote something from Dickens that fit the moment. I think I was actually reading Oliver Twist that winter. I knew that our host would catch the significance. I hope I didn't try to use it on the young divorcee who lived behind us and whose two children often ended up at our house after school.

With these diverse examples of the age gap in our memories I guess the only excuse I have is that there are a few of us who are my age and enjoy sharing a memory. The second best excuse is that it is the responsibility of our age to keep some of these memories alive. The history books are never going to mention that Carolyn Thornton embarrassed the school librarian, or that Cottey College attracted a group of "delightful" young men who enhanced the lives of the students in the 1920s.

It makes us know that each decade had their good times, their favorite songs, and their own heroes and heroines.