Good Old Days
I remember when research meant reading a book
instead of just giving the google a look,
when phones came with cords and they sat upon tables,
and phone calls were answered unless you weren’t able.
When steak was for dinner without all the guilt,
and nobody cried over milk that was spilt,
when everyone lit up and smoked on the train,
and no one inspected your bags on the plane.
When cars had no airbags, and seatbelts were silly,
and children had real names like Sally and Billy,
when schools made you stand for the pledge of allegiance,
and poor kids weren’t bussed to more affluent regions.
When cowboys were kings on their trustworthy stallions,
and Injuns in movies were played by Italians,
when “triggered” was never employed as a verb,
and black people couldn’t buy homes in the ‘burbs.
When women stayed pregnant and cooked in the kitchen
and didn’t waste time always workin’ and bitchin’
and if you sought change, you would not hold your breath,
if you didn’t like someone, you’d hang them to death.
If your skin was too dark, you could not get a job,
if your hair was too long, you were clearly a slob,
if your eyes were too slanted, they’d call you a Chink,
if you didn’t speak English, you don’t get no drink.
When Japanese citizens were placed into camps,
and mothers unwed were no better than tramps,
and gay was disgusting, and trans was a myth,
and you’d get arrested for who you were with.
But the country was stable, and values had worth,
just as long as you were a true citizen by birth—
yes, those were the good old days, honest and true,
and everyone misses them—how about you?
