(Sometimes, it's good to live in the middle of nowhere. We just went through a major snowstorm, but there was no panic, because I don't live on the coast, and there are plenty of plows and sand. Here's to living in nowhere. We'll never be on the news for merely having snow. Time for Cardboard Appreciation. This is the 96th in a series):
Some people don't have a lot of use for nostalgia. Other people live their lives in the past.
I try to strike a happy medium. But I do get nostalgic quite a bit, and it makes you do some strange things.
For example, this 1982 Fleer card makes me nostalgic. Think about that. I actually long for the days of darkened, all-purpose stadiums, baby blue road uniforms, simplistic card designs with inferior photo production, and dudes with massive facial hair.
None of these attributes are very desirable. But nostalgia's strong suit isn't perspective. It's the same reason why I can listen to the Human League, Men at Work or any pop group from 1982 and not cringe because of the cheesiness factor. I like it because it's what I heard when I was in high school.
Speaking of which, nostalgia actually can create fond feelings for high school. Yick. That isn't right at all. High school was a horrible place on almost a daily basis for most of my existence there. Survivable? Sure. Full of happy memories? Absolutely not. Yet, I can hear A Flock of Seagulls song or watch an episode of Cheers and remember the "good times."
That nostalgia is powerful stuff.
On the baseball field in 1982, the Dodgers were eliminated at the end of the season by jerk-off Joe Morgan's home run. A team that was in last place practically the entire time I had been alive won the N.L. West. Ron Cey, Steve Garvey and Reggie Smith were not re-signed after the season.
So, '82 wasn't great on the baseball side of things, too.
That's one thing about nostalgia. It can be erased easily by a little self-analysis.
Huh.
So why should I like this card again?
(*Looks at card. Suddenly realizes that the photo wasn't taken in St. Louis like he thought for 28 years. Surmises from the logos in the background that it was actually taken in Philadelphia.. ... Enjoys card again*)
That's why.
Some people don't have a lot of use for nostalgia. Other people live their lives in the past.
I try to strike a happy medium. But I do get nostalgic quite a bit, and it makes you do some strange things.
For example, this 1982 Fleer card makes me nostalgic. Think about that. I actually long for the days of darkened, all-purpose stadiums, baby blue road uniforms, simplistic card designs with inferior photo production, and dudes with massive facial hair.
None of these attributes are very desirable. But nostalgia's strong suit isn't perspective. It's the same reason why I can listen to the Human League, Men at Work or any pop group from 1982 and not cringe because of the cheesiness factor. I like it because it's what I heard when I was in high school.
Speaking of which, nostalgia actually can create fond feelings for high school. Yick. That isn't right at all. High school was a horrible place on almost a daily basis for most of my existence there. Survivable? Sure. Full of happy memories? Absolutely not. Yet, I can hear A Flock of Seagulls song or watch an episode of Cheers and remember the "good times."
That nostalgia is powerful stuff.
On the baseball field in 1982, the Dodgers were eliminated at the end of the season by jerk-off Joe Morgan's home run. A team that was in last place practically the entire time I had been alive won the N.L. West. Ron Cey, Steve Garvey and Reggie Smith were not re-signed after the season.
So, '82 wasn't great on the baseball side of things, too.
That's one thing about nostalgia. It can be erased easily by a little self-analysis.
Huh.
So why should I like this card again?
(*Looks at card. Suddenly realizes that the photo wasn't taken in St. Louis like he thought for 28 years. Surmises from the logos in the background that it was actually taken in Philadelphia.. ... Enjoys card again*)
That's why.
Comments
Growing up just 15 miles from where you are, we used to get a foot of snow overnight, and still ended up going to school. And I would have to get up at 5 AM and get it out of the driveway.
No fuss, no media attention, just some muted cursing at the snowplow when it inevitable rolled around the corner right as you finished.
I've cleared as much as 3 feet of white stuff from the driveway -- yes, they cancelled school whan that happened -- which leads me to laugh out loud when I hear about the "major" snowstorm that fell on New York City...amounting to 8 inches or so.
(Says the guy who now lives in Florida because I got tired of dealing with it every winter.)