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Nostalgia April 2018

An Illness for Days Gone By

By Anne Ashley

This last bug had me digging out albums from The Ink Spots, Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald and watching the likes of “Gone With the Wind” and “The Philadelphia Story” for the umpteenth time. Such is my pleasure that I always regret waiting until the plague descends on our household before I drag out my classics.

I’m suffering through the flu season (like the rest of the world) and only surviving because I’m relying on my treasured collection of old movies, record albums from my youth (scratchy tracks and all) and audio books depicting times from long, long ago to sustain me.

It’s been a while since illness struck the Ashley household so I was caught off guard by the effects of such a drain. Although, to be fair, I barely suffer a pesky cough without being reduced to a crying, whining intemperate brat, let alone this full-blown fever-raging contagion.

Anyway, what really irks me is that once the illness takes hold, it’s here for days without respite, no matter what medications or tonics are prescribed. This is especially vexing since I take rigorous precautions to avoid such maladies. I disinfect doorknobs, keyboards, cooking surfaces and utensils with disinfecting wipes and hot water and stringent soaps daily at the mere hint of a spreading malady.

I even wash my hands each time I return home before I touch anything and use my elbow to push elevator buttons while I'm out, lest I come into contact with cooties from a less cautious and germ-ridden person. And don’t even get me started on the fit I throw if a selfish oaf coughs or sneezes without covering their mouth in my presence! No, I'm always flabbergasted when germs still find their way into my humble abode.

Granted, despite the gloom and doom hanging over my household, I do enjoy the opportunity to hark back to the movies and music of yore. It’s a small pacification but it’s at least entertaining until the worst is over and the last fever has raged, or the exacerbating and annoying cough has subsided.

This last bug had me digging out albums from The Ink Spots, Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald and watching the likes of “Gone With the Wind” and “The Philadelphia Story” for the umpteenth time. Such is my pleasure that I always regret waiting until the plague descends on our household before I drag out my classics.

Anyway, while I watched and listened to yesteryear, I realized that the fashions of the ‘30s and ‘40s and ‘50s are still with us. I could wear most, if not all, the outfits worn by Katherine Hepburn or Vivian Leigh (minus the curtain ensemble from “GWTW,” of course) today with absolute confidence.

Also, it’s not lost on me that today’s TV advertisement relies heavily on old music to sell new products – to the young!  There’s something about the fashions and music from our time of life that still hits the right chords or flatters the right figures. I wonder if generations to come will be able to look back to today’s fashions and music with the same fondness or the same nostalgic pleasure.

Somehow, I can’t envisage future 70-somethings lazing on their sofas, reminiscing about their good ole days while listening to techno music noise or the single, “Smack My Bitch Up” while wearing razor-shredded jeans (I would love to be there when tomorrow’s elders try to explain to their grandchildren why on earth they chose to wear jeans around their derrieres, held snugly in place with a belt) and a sideways baseball cap.   

No, me either.

So, until further notice, I can be found headphones donned, listening to the Standards and wearing my Laura Petrie pedal pushers and ballet pumps, daydreaming about my good ole days and waiting until His Royal Highness is completely over this flu nonsense.

Oh, yes, I can see your confusion, what with all my complaining and grumping. No, I’m not ill with the flu. It’s my better half who allowed the germs into our home, despite my best efforts. Yeah, I agree. In today’s vernacular, rude!

 

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