An above ground pool is the backdrop for this priceless picture of Laura and Nana, Early 1980s
Laura, Her Nana and the Fab Above Ground Pool
Laura L. sent me this photo of her with her Nana standing in front of an above ground pool. She wrote, “Me, with my Nana and my softball glove, in front of our fab pool 😂 (circa early 80’s) I miss everything in this photo…”
Post Script
Grandpa, tell me ’bout the good old daysSometimes it feels like this world’s gone crazyGrandpa, take me back to yesterdayWhen the line between right and wrongDidn’t seem so hazy
Did lovers really fall in love to stayAnd stand beside each other, come what may?Was a promise really something people keptNot just something they would sayDid families really bow their heads to pray?Did daddies really never go away?Whoa, whoa, grandpa, tell me ’bout the good old days
Grandpa, everything is changing fastWe call it progress, but I just don’t knowAnd grandpa, let’s wander back into the pastThen paint me the picture of long ago
Did lovers really fall in love to stayAnd stand beside each other, come what may?Was a promise really something people keptNot just something they would say and then forgetDid families really bow their heads to pray?Did daddies really never go away?Whoa, whoa, grandpa, tell me ’bout the good old daysWhoa, whoa, grandpa, tell me ’bout the good old days
From Grandpa by the Judds, 1985
You might enjoy this post about Grandma’s House.
We find ourselves at a time when the word “longing” does not faithfully describe the feeling of what has been lost. The setback in certain standards seems to have taken many by surprise, a few saw the slow crumbling. Yet it is promising that the good and inviolable forms of the past, now dubbed as mere reactionism, are recognized, when in reality, in the past, there is a refuge for the future.
That is poetry. Thank you.