Dwelling on the past has kind of been a thing in our house lately. Most of this centers on how much things have changed—the economy, the educational system, the cost of living—but not all of it. Tired of hearing us reminisce about fond memories, my two oldest sons usually put Ron and me in check when we get too lost in memories.
“Remember the first time we went to New York?” it might start. “Yes! And oh my gosh, the towers were still there. Remember we went to the top and leaned against the windows and looked straight down?” the other will reply. “Oh and remember your buddy had that long rock star hair?”
“Yeah, and why did you let me wear those round John Lennon glasses?”
“I don’t know, why did you let me wear those high-waisted jeans and hoop earrings?”
By this point our boys start to roll their eyes. They let us have our fun until one of them finally says, “This isn’t the ’80s, anymore, move on.”
That’s the key phrase; the ’80s. They use it as a response to a variety of things we talk about that they think are irrelevant. They fling it around like a hurtful punch line to a lame joke.
“Remember when iceberg lettuce was $.89? That was just like two years ago. Can you believe these prices?” Then my kids will say “Mom, Dad, this isn’t the ’80s.”
I’ll come out of the room after spending 20 minutes stuffing myself into my dress for the evening. “I can’t believe this dress doesn’t fit me anymore. I swear it fit fine when I bought it two months ago.”
My boys will reply, “Face it, the ’80s are gone Mom.”
It can be the most obscure reference from a totally different decade and they will still say “Oh my God, mom, it’s not the ’80s anymore.”
To which I reply, “That was the ’70s!!!”
Recently, they got to know what it feels like.
It was a freak rainy day sandwiched between two boiling hot days. My youngest, Sebastian, didn’t want to bring his jacket to school. So much so that he threatened that he would get too hot and have to leave it on the playground.
Jake, my oldest, came to my defense and told Sebastian he should take care of his jacket because if he left it on the playground it would get stolen.
After some “no it wouldn’t/yes it would arguing,” between the two, Sebastian finally told Jake, who is 7 years his senior, “No it wouldn’t, Jake, it’s not like this is the 2000s!”
Jake’s face waffled between being incredulous and simply wanting to laugh.
I laughed hard—you know what they say about paybacks.
The thing that really bugs me though is that my kids are convinced we are stuck on one decade. Sure, I loved the ’80s. I still think it was a great decade. But the ’70s had a lot going for it too.
Most notably, because it also produced the most incredible political/war story ever in the history of wars—Star Wars.
It’s from Star Wars that I learned that I should always let a Wookie win, Sand People will always be back, and in greater numbers, and of course, that those are not the droids I was looking for.
That last bit is a little lesson from Obi-Wan to Luke in how to use the Jedi Mind Trick. There were only two things I wanted to do in those days, drive a land speeder and learn how to use the Jedi Mind Trick.
I no longer care to drive a land speeder, but the thing that stuck was learning to use the Jedi Mind Trick. Can you imagine how handy that would be in everyday life? My life would be cake. Think about it, when I make dinner I could get my kids to eat any vegetarian meal I make by simply waving my hand and saying, “These are not the vegetables you hate.”
I could get my husband to work on the lawn with a simple, “This is not the football team you like.”
And of course, whenever I feel like binge watching a show like Dukes of Hazzard or Three’s Company, I could simply take the remote control from my kids and tell them, “These are totally the TV shows that you like.”
Of course, it could also be used on me, I suppose. My kids could get out of cleaning their rooms with a simple, mind twisting, “This is the exact amount of cleanliness you were asking for.”
My dog Finn could tell me, “These are the (chewed up) sprinklers you were looking for.” And he’d be right.
And of course there is, “This is the hot body you were looking for,”—I guess, either Ron or I could use that trick.
But then there are so many applications for that outside the house as well. Like when someone cuts you off when you are waiting for a parking space: “This isn’t the parking space you are looking for.” Or when you write off too much on your taxes and you get audited and you want to tell the IRS, “This isn’t the error you were looking for.” Although, much like Jabba the Hutt, I have a feeling the IRS is immune to the Jedi Mind Trick.
Honestly probably the only thing I’d really be prepared to use the Jedi Mind Trick on is my own tendency to revel in the past, to compare what was to what is. So it would have to be me in the mirror telling myself, “That isn’t the price you remember.” “You are exactly the same jean size you’ve always been.”
For my family however, we’d be better off these days remembering, “This is exactly the memory you want to have.”
Editor Shelly Cone never dwells so far in the past that she forgets today. Contact her at scone@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Oct 1-8, 2015.