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Nostalgia is a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past. I’m starting to realize as I get older that the things they say about old people living in the past ring true. A lot of what swirls around in my head involves the past.

play-dohThe past is sometimes easier to deal with. The present seems to involve a lot of waiting. Waiting for the work day to end. Waiting for the weekend. Waiting for pay day. Waiting for hubby to come home on the weekend. Waiting for summer to end. Waiting for school to start. Waiting for the next great book to come along. Waiting for the dryer to stop so I can put the next load in. You get the idea. These last few weeks of summer feel endless to me. Maybe I’m just bored.

boredI try not to get bored with blogging. Everyone seems to be walking away from blogging lately. Either consciously – “you won’t see me as much around here” or “I’m taking a break” or unconsciously – the posts just dwindle or stop or you’ll suddenly read “Sorry I’ve been gone so long”. Writing a blog is hard work. Life sometimes gets in the way. I think of favorite blogs I used to read all the time, and it will occur to me that I haven’t seen a post from that blogger in months or maybe I’m just horrible at keeping up with all the blogs I want to read. I blog if I feel I have something interesting to say or share. I notice often that I have something I feel is brilliant, and then I‘ll think “I already said that”. I get that déjà vu feeling, and the post never gets posted. I worry about repeating myself. I probably have already.

Déjà vu is a funny thing. With the newer car we have Sirius satellite radio. I’ve been listening a lot lately to music popular when I was in my teens and 20’s. I love the 70’s and 80’s stations. A friend posted lyrics from an 80’s song on Facebook the other day, and everyone chimed in with the next lyrics from the song. You never forget the songs you grew up with – they’re all buried in your brain somewhere. I can sing along to songs I haven’t heard in 30 or 40 years.

mtvThinking of the 70’s and 80’s made me think about my Dad this morning. He’s been gone since 1987. I was only 28 when he died. I was such an immature 28, too. I lived at home with my parents, I didn’t date, and about the only time I left the house was to go to work. Work at the time had been a nightmare, too. After Dad died, I quit and walked out on that job. I wish I had my Dad here today. I’d love to talk to him now (as an adult). I think I’d appreciate him more now than I did as a 20-something.

I think a lot about things my parents did or said. I went to a Transportation Museum with my younger son this past weekend. Inside they had a lot of old coaches, trolleys and cars on display. They are restored by volunteers on a volunteer basis so many items in the shop were in a state of disrepair. One item in particular caught my eye, and I couldn’t stop looking at it or talking about it. It was an old streetcar (or trolley). My Mother talked all the time about riding the streetcar. This was back before cars and buses. She used to hop a streetcar to ride to the beach or ride downtown. She used to take the streetcar to meet my Dad when they were young. I gazed at the old car and wondered if it was one she’d ridden. I wondered if she would recognize it.

streetcar1streetcar2streetcar3This has been a disjointed post; it feels a bit like an Andy Rooney commentary – rambling from one stray thought to another – that’s how my mind has been these past few weeks.

First Three Images courtesy of Pinterest