The Good Old Days

I come from a generation whose ketchup came in glass bottles. And therein lies the fundamental difference between my generation and the current one.

Glass bottles. They were everywhere. They were the essence of life.

You walked into a restaurant, and there were glass condiment bottles sitting on tables. Usually, Heinz Ketchup. You had to bruise your palm to get the stuff out.

And when you couldn’t get the ketchup to move, you handed the bottle to your daddy and watched him invent new cuss words. This is what kept families together.

Glass packaging was the norm. We had no space-age plastic polymers. We had glass, that was all.

And glass, somehow, just made us happier. It unified us. It made us American. Glass bottles kept crime rates down, literacy rates up, and it made everyone sing the national anthem at ball games.

Which reminds me, I was at a ball game the other day when the national anthem was played. Everyone stood. Many placed hands over their hearts. But do you know what? Very few people sang.

Actually, almost nobody sang.

All 42,000 silently listened to the singer on the field without opening their mouths. The singer was a recording artist from Nashville with three Grammys, two ESPYs, one Pulitzer, and whatever else.

The singer performed two minutes of vocal gymnastics so that it sounded like he was having a febrile seizure. And the boy in the seat next to me leaned over to his mom and said, “Which song is this again?”

You see, when I was a kid, everyone sang the “Star Spangled Banner.” That’s just how it was. We learned it in school. We SANG it in school. We knew all the words.

So you sang the anthem at games. You didn’t let anyone else sing it for you. Before ballgames, my grandfather would carefully balance his cigar on his beer, my father would remove his seed cap, and tens of thousands would sing Francis Scott Key in unison.

And when the song ended, everyone applauded, and the Braves, inspired by fervent singing, dashed onto the field and ceremoniously got massacred.

Something else about my generation. We were not required to leave tips for every single financial transaction completed.

Sure, we tipped people. We tipped restaurant servers, barbers, bartenders, and professional dancers. But we did not tip at the supermarket self-checkout.

Know what else? There were no video ads at our gas stations. Yesterday I was pumping gas. There was a television in the pump, blaring 24-hour headline news at a volume loud enough to make your gums bleed. These videos were interspersed with noisy ads for everything from potato chips to marital aids.

Not just that, but other things were different, too. People still held the doors for each other. Children were actually pretty good conversationalists.

And we all focused better. Probably because we didn’t have cell phones competing for our attention every couple of nanoseconds. Without cellphones, we were able to perform unthinkable feats of concentration, such as—to pick an unthinkable feat at random—driving.

Music and movies were not streamed, they were shared, communal experiences. If you wanted to see a popular movie, such as, for example, “The Muppet Movie” you attended a theater and sat in a roomful of B.O.

Likewise, nobody knew, or cared about gluten. We left our eggs sitting on the counter. Also, butter. And there was a working spitoon at the local hardware store. And nobody looked down on those who smoked.

Yes, we were ignorant about safety, I’ll admit it. We never wore bike helmets. Seatbelts were optional. Every boy above age 3 owned a pocket knife. There were ashtrays in our airplanes and hospital waiting rooms. Parents bought their children wood burning kits. Or worse: Lawn darts.

But truthfully, I miss those days. I miss being told to go outside and play instead of being shoved in a corner and handed an iPad.

Our neighborhood streets were overrun with tiny bicycles. We had Saturday morning cartoons, typewriters, tin Folgers cans, and every child was familiar with BBs. Our churches didn’t use projection screens. And most males held the doors for anyone named Ma’am, Miss, or Mama.

The truth is, I miss a lot about the way things used to be. I miss dressing up when you caught an airline flight. I miss the days when Boy Scouts weren’t in the headlines, and a guy could still work on his car if he had a ratchet set. I miss a lot.

But mainly, I miss glass ketchup bottles.

9 comments

  1. Gaylon Ponder - October 9, 2023 3:45 am

    I am from Alabama but traveling for work in the southern bay area of California, often refered to as the Semi Valley or something like that. I watched a kid (pre-teen appearance) outrunning the traffic on a small bsttery powered motorized bicycle in the bike lane, or on the sidewalk, a change of choice he made frequently. His pedal-bike friend and accomplice was hsving trouble keeping up. I wonder how he will represent his level of freedom, risk taking, and safety when he is your age, much less my age, if he makes it that far.

    Reply
  2. Deb Davis - October 9, 2023 11:02 am

    I’m one of likely only two people in the U.S. who would love to change our national anthem. Why sing about “bombs bursting in air” when the our true worth is better experienced in such phrases as these:

    O beautiful for spacious skies
    For amber waves of grain
    For purple mountain majesties
    Above the fruited plain!
    America! America!
    God shed his grace on thee
    And crown thy good with brotherhood
    From sea to shining sea!

    Furthermore, the melody touches a soul. Just my two cents.

    Reply
    • Julia Perrodin - October 9, 2023 4:14 pm

      Personally, I feel that they are both beautiful songs, but the symbolism in the Star-Spangled Banner is hopeful and victorious over oppression. It is about the spirit of America. During the War of 1812, Key watched a night-time battle between Great Britain and America that took place at Fort McHenry. He was trying to secure the release of prisoners but ended up being detained and held by the British. The bombing of Fort McHenry continued throughout the night, and the American flag, the symbol of our nation, was not always visible. If the flag was not flying or was replaced with a British flag, it would mean that the British had captured the fort. So this song is more about enduring. It’s about freedom and the knowing that we are a united front against anything that threatens our way of life. It is an about the violence that occurred, rather the love and brotherhood that confronted and endured that violence.

      Reply
  3. Texas Rebel - October 9, 2023 3:41 pm

    For us in God’s country (aka the South, especially Texas!) Our national anthem needs to be Dixie! I agree the world today is so screwed up. My great grandsons will have no idea of the things my generation too for granted. Like everybody having pocket knives, going fishing etc. Afraid the yankees ruined the whole country when they (think) they won the war for southern independence.

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  4. Steve Acree - October 10, 2023 1:23 pm

    I went to an SEC game Saturday. We sang the National Anthem. I know I did. I also sang a Tom Petty song along with about 75,000 people. Still opening doors for people down here. Do love that America the Beautiful song. Don’t need to get into history written by the losing team. But I love Sean Dietrich. He strikes a chord with us older folks in a great way often enough. Madison Ave and technology are changing things faster than we can forget things that were always part of our lives. It has been like this since the industrial revolution. My grandparents remember looking up and seeing the first airplanes and their first phones and cars. You cant stop progress………….or whatever it is.

    Reply
  5. Shannon - October 10, 2023 9:33 pm

    I always put my hand over my heart and sing. Not too loudly so as not to override the real singer. It makes me tear a little and when we’re finished I put my hand toward heaven. Then holler “Go Dawgs”

    Reply
  6. Susan Mackie - October 21, 2023 11:32 am

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  7. Susan Mackie - October 21, 2023 11:44 am

    And….I simply read or listened to an editorial or column such as yours, without it being followed by egotistical remarks that inspired my “two cents.” I never felt that urge to “out-opinion” the writer. I simply listened to or read a journalist piece and thought, “Hmmm..”

    Reply
  8. Cynthia Russell - March 6, 2024 1:04 am

    Thanks Sean… love your columns!!! Wake up to the computer & first thing I do is read Your Sean Column.. its waiting in a inside my computer!! TY!!!
    cynetc

    Reply

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