Madge, I Think I Need More Than A Manicure

Madison Avenue had it going on in the seventies.

Gen X knows what I'm talking about.

We were stuck on Band-aid brand because Band-aids were stuck on us.

Our bologna had a first name.

Coca-Cola was hoping to teach the world harmony through song and soda.

Green giants say "Ho. Ho. Ho."

I wouldn't be caught dead squeezing the Charmin.

Now that I'm an adult, I think the real story was Mr. Whipple and Madge were a couple when they weren't selling Charmin and Palmolive respectively.

I need my Wonder Woman Underoos, even though they've taken away women's rights and before I begin going down that very depressing, but totally trackable rabbit hole, I'm simply going to stop here.

And be oh, so grateful for the way the world used to be.

That I got to be a child when naivety was still possible. 

Before cynicism and cell phones ruled the world. When the news only came on at 6pm and 11pm. If you wanted to know about celebrities you had to read People magazine. For the scandalous ones, you read the National Enquirer.

No social media. You went out with other people in person and had time to talk to others. Cameras were brought out for family gatherings and nature walks. And then we put them away and didn't think about them for ages.

We baked things in ovens not popped them in microwaves or air fryers. And we sat down to meals with other family members on purpose. You knew the true nature of people in your circle by how they played board games and cards; whether they were cheaters, greedy, willing to bend the rules, outright liars, or kind, thoughtful, and fair.

Politicians were held to higher standards because they were going to govern us.

I watched Jimmy Carter's inauguration. He turns 100 today. 

This sure isn't the world I came in to.

Maybe I can talk Madge into a manicure and try to deal with the modern world again tomorrow.