WILKES-BARRE — These days, when my circle of friends get together over a good dinner, we always talk about the great old days.
Not the “good old days” — the “great” old days.
Because to us, when we grew up, those days were great — for so many reasons.
Our get-togethers are always fun because they’re always about lifelong memories with forever friends.
These are cherished memories — many made together.
It’s really good to remember.
It’s better to never forget.
It’s about the best of times with the very best of friends.
I encourage you all to practice this ritual — for us, it’s usually over dinner, or at a friend’s house, or at an event, like the annual Summer Dance at Irem Temple.
We all hope to remain somewhat vibrant as we continue through our life’s path. And we seem to be still shining a light of hope and optimism, with a bit of satisfaction in lives well-lived.
We talk about all sorts of memories — like shopping for school clothes prior to the start of every school year. On the Saturday before Labor Day back in the ‘50s and ’60s, my mom would take me “overtown” to shop for new school clothes.
Mom would take me to American Clothing on South Main Street, and then to The Hub, and then to Fowler Dick & Walker, the Boston Store.
And this kid had a rule — no sweaters, please! Maybe some kids can rock a sweater, but not me. That was a rule I instituted and my mom accepted.
But in those days, we all dressed nice for school. So did our teachers — coats and ties, shined shoes, nice dresses, jewelry, fancy hair-dos.
And we all behaved — well, for the most part. But we were about to enter the mid-to-late 1960s when everything was changing — fashion, hair styles, manners, morals, music.
The times they really were a-changing, but we made it through, and here we are today.
And sometimes we talk about cars — not today’s cars, where all are SUVs that look alike and no longer have CD players and usually are white in color, and well, let’s just say that wasn’t the case back in the day.
We remember when you could immediately tell a car’s make and model on sight. It was easy because cars were spectacular back in the ’50s and ’60s.
Cars like GTOs, Camaros, Mustangs, Corvettes, Road Runners, Dodge Darts, Chevelles, Barricudas, Thunderbirds, Beetles, Ramblers, Studebakers, Corvairs, Pintos, Furys, Marlins, Gremlins, Mavericks, Cougars, Impalas, Fairlanes, Cutlasses, Continentals, Galaxys, El Dorados, Cordobas, LeSabres, Biscaynes, BelAirs, and many more.
They were so distinctive, and the color combinations were amazing. Not to mention the power under the hood.
But back in the 1960s, hard-working people, many with families, took time to get together for picnics and backyard barbecues. Barbecue grills were fired up. Families and friends gathered in backyards or at local lakes to enjoy themselves and to perpetuate the spirit that is America.
We would go to Lake Silkworth, or North Lake, or Sylvan Lake, or Melody Park, or Palace Park, and have a blast. We would play games, go swimming, down hamburgs, hot dogs and potato salad, and cole slaw like there was no tomorrow.
We would arrive early and stay late. We would get sunburn and, in a few days, we would gross out other kids when we would peel the skin off our sunburned arms and legs.
Back in our day, we would walk to school — uphill each way, mind you — and we would be welcomed by all of our pals, and we would meet our teachers for the coming school year.
When we got home from school each day, we did our homework, and we sat down with our parents and ate dinner. Then, and only then, were we allowed to go outside and play for a while.
When the day was winding down, we would sit on our front porches and talk to our neighbors across the street, and we would watch those awesome cars go up and down, over and over.
We did our homework.
We respected our teachers and our schools.
We supported our teams.
We formed forever friendships.
Back in the day, we had championship basketball teams, football rivalries, school colors, Alma maters, cheers, fans, and community spirit.
And if you can believe this, we also wanted to learn. We actually wanted to do homework, write book reports and play sports. We totally enjoyed the in-school experience.
Don’t get me wrong, we enjoyed summers off as much as any other generation, but we were all-in on walking the halls of our hometown school.
The graduating classes of 1966 marked the end of Smalltown USA.
So many years later, we reminisce about those days, even remembering things we never had the time to learn.
Memories never fade, nor should they.