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Index »
Radio Paradise/General »
General Discussion »
Remembering the Good Old Days
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Page: Previous 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 |
oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:37am |
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Ebon_Lupus wrote: I was two in 1965. My memories are a bit fuzzy that far back.
I was 10 and hanging on for all it was worth...
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Umberdog
Location: In my body. Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:33am |
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Ebon_Lupus wrote: That must have sucked. I can see a definite generation... or maybe culture... gap here. I lived in a small town and people were generally kind to each other. My father was an alcoholic thought, and had a hard time dealing with things. So while my parents were working things out I spent most of my time with my grandmother, sheltered from the dark side of human nature. I was two in 1965. My memories are a bit fuzzy that far back.
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Umberdog
Location: In my body. Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:31am |
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mzpro5 wrote:Gee I don't know. Except for Grandma being here that pretty much sounds like a normal Saturday for me with a few minor changes. Instead of Scooby Doo I watch DVD's of old WB cartoons and instead of Portland wrestling it is the WWF and I end up falling asleep watching a horror flick I got from Netflix. . I just download everything now... I don't even have a TV anymore. Things do change.
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:30am |
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Ebon_Lupus wrote: I had never seen a Beatles cartoon. That was pretty cool.
Standard Saturday morning fare in '65...
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Umberdog
Location: In my body. Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:29am |
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private_di wrote:I remember the "good old days"...I remember the couple who lived in the apartment above us, we'd listen to the guy beat the crap out of his wife, one night she ran out into the street screaming...nobody called the police though, because that wasn't done in the "good old days." My father walked out on us and never paid a penny in child support; today he'd be in jail, but not in the good old days. Then there was the jerk who wanted to marry my mother, she didn't want anything to do with him so he'd do what today is clearly considered stalking (stake out our house, park his car next to her car door so she couldn't get out...), but in the "good old days" everyone thought it was so romantic. And don't get me started on the teacher who demanded to know if I believed in God.
Like the Ben Harper song, how I miss the good old days, but I'm so glad they're gone! That must have sucked. I can see a definite generation... or maybe culture... gap here. I lived in a small town and people were generally kind to each other. My father was an alcoholic thought, and had a hard time dealing with things. So while my parents were working things out I spent most of my time with my grandmother, sheltered from the dark side of human nature.
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mzpro5
Location: Budda'spet, Hungry Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:28am |
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Ebon_Lupus wrote:I remember when Saturday used to mean something. I would await it with anticipation. Back then a day of waiting seemed like a lifetime... now it's a few ticks of the clock. My grandmother, who I spent most of my childhood with, would make an extra special breakfast of hotcakes, eggs, and sausage patties. After breakfast came several hours of Lego blocks and cartoons. Scooby Doo was my favorite. Once the shows I liked had ended I'd go outside to play. I never had many friends, mostly because my interests were strange, but that never bothered me back then. My mind was always active and I found endless ways to amuse myself. When Saturday night came I would watch Portland Wrestling with my my grandma, who would sit in an old green rocking chair, with a lap full of walnuts she was shelling, and occasionally raise her fist to the air saying, "punch him in the face!" It was a pretty funny thing to see, even to a 10 year old. Then I'd watch the Saturday night sci-fi/horror double-feature, and usually fall asleep part-way through the second one. Anyway, that was then. Nowadays Saturday is just another day.
Gee I don't know. Except for Grandma being here that pretty much sounds like a normal Saturday for me with a few minor changes. Instead of Scooby Doo I watch DVD's of old WB cartoons and instead of Portland wrestling it is the WWF and I end up falling asleep watching a horror flick I got from Netflix. .
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Umberdog
Location: In my body. Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:26am |
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oldviolin wrote: I had never seen a Beatles cartoon. That was pretty cool.
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JrzyTmata
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:25am |
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(former member)
Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:23am |
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Ebon_Lupus wrote:I remember when Saturday used to mean something. I would await it with anticipation. Back then a day of waiting seemed like a lifetime... now it's a few ticks of the clock. My grandmother, who I spent most of my childhood with, would make an extra special breakfast of hotcakes, eggs, and sausage patties. After breakfast came several hours of Lego blocks and cartoons. Scooby Doo was my favorite. Once the shows I liked had ended I'd go outside to play. I never had many friends. mostly because my interests were strange, but that never bothered me back then. My mind was always active and I found endless ways to amuse myself. When Saturday night came I would watch Portland Wrestling with my my grandma, who would sit in an old green rocking chair, with a lap full of walnuts she was shelling, and occasionally raise her fist to the air saying, "punch him in the face!" It was a pretty funny thing to see, even to a 10 year old. Then I'd watch the Saturday night sci-fi/horror double-feature, and usually fall asleep part-way through the second one. Anyway, that was then. Nowadays Saturday is just another day.
I remember the "good old days"...I remember the couple who lived in the apartment above us, we'd listen to the guy beat the crap out of his wife, one night she ran out into the street screaming...nobody called the police though, because that wasn't done in the "good old days." My father walked out on us and never paid a penny in child support; today he'd be in jail, but not in the good old days. Then there was the jerk who wanted to marry my mother, she didn't want anything to do with him so he'd do what today is clearly considered stalking (stake out our house, park his car next to her car door so she couldn't get out...), but in the "good old days" everyone thought it was so romantic. And don't get me started on the teacher who demanded to know if I believed in God. Like the Ben Harper song, how I miss the good old days, but I'm so glad they're gone!
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:23am |
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oldviolin
Location: esse quam videri Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:17am |
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JrzyTmata
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:17am |
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Umberdog
Location: In my body. Gender:
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Posted:
Oct 23, 2010 - 10:14am |
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I remember when Saturday used to mean something. I would await it with anticipation. Back then a day of waiting seemed like a lifetime... now it's a few ticks of the clock. My grandmother, who I spent most of my childhood with, would make an extra special breakfast of hotcakes, eggs, and sausage patties. After breakfast came several hours of Lego blocks and cartoons. Scooby Doo was my favorite. Once the shows I liked had ended I'd go outside to play. I never had many friends, mostly because my interests were strange, but that never bothered me back then. My mind was always active and I found endless ways to amuse myself. When Saturday night came I would watch Portland Wrestling with my my grandma, who would sit in an old green rocking chair, with a lap full of walnuts she was shelling, and occasionally raise her fist to the air saying, "punch him in the face!" It was a pretty funny thing to see, even to a 10 year old. Then I'd watch the Saturday night sci-fi/horror double-feature, and usually fall asleep part-way through the second one. Anyway, that was then. Nowadays Saturday is just another day.
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