In the kitchen, on the wall, we only had one phone,
No need for recording things, someone was always home.
MEMORIES
A small house with a front porch and one car on the street,
A mower that you had to push to make the grass look neat.
In the kitchen, on the wall, we only had one phone,
No need for recording things, someone was always home.
We only had a living room where we would congregate,
Unless it was at mealtime in the kitchen where we ate.
We had no need for family rooms or extra rooms to dine,
When meeting as a family, those two rooms would work out fine.
We only had one TV set, and channels maybe two,
But always there was one of them with something worth the view.
For snacks, we had potato chips that tasted like a chip,
And if you wanted flavor there was always onion dip.
Store-bought snacks were rare because my mother liked to cook,
And nothing can compare to snacks in Betty Crocker's book.
The snacks were even healthy, with the best ingredients,
No labels with a hundred things that make no bit of sense.
When we went for outings, depending on the weather,
No one stayed at home because we liked to be together.
Sometimes we would separate to do things on our own,
But we knew where the others were, without our own cell phone.
Get a baseball game together with all the friends you know,
Have real action playing ball -- no game video.
There were the picnics at the peak of summer season,
Pack a lunch and find some trees and never need a reason.
Remember when the doctor used to be the family friend,
And didn't need insurance or a lawyer to defend?
The way that he took care of you or what he had to do,
Because he took an oath and strived to do the best for you.
Remember, when we breathed the air; it smelled so fresh and clean,
And chemicals weren't needed to help the grass look green.
The milkman used to go from door to door,
And it was just a few cents more than going to the store.
The mailman knew each house by name and knew where it was sent;
There was no bunch of mail addressed to "current occupant."
There was a time when just one glance was all that it would take,
And you would know the kind of car, the model and the make.
They didn't look like turtles trying to squeeze out every mile;
They were streamlined and elegant and had a little style.
One time the music that you played whenever you would jive,
Was from a vinyl, big-holed record, called a forty-five.
The record player had a post to keep them all in line,
And then the records would drop down and play one at a time.
Oh sure, we had our problems then, just like we do today,
And always we were striving, trying for a better way.
Oh, the simple life we lived still seems like so much fun,
How can you explain a game like kick the can and run?
And why would boys put playing cards between bicycle spokes,
And for a nickel, red machines had little bottled Cokes?
This life seemed so much easier and slower in some ways,
I love the new technology, but I sure miss those days.
So time moves on and so do we, and nothing stays the same,
But I sure love to reminisce and walk down memory lane.
Author Unknown
Background music: Memories are Made of This, a big hit for Dean Martin.
Thanks for dropping by; hope you enjoyed the trip down memory lane!
