John, I was so struck by your piece. I have had similar feelings over the past few days. My first job and most rewarding one was working in historic preservation. Now the city I live in is tearing down older homes left and right. But I fear the multi-families they hope to built will never be occupied by those who need a home; this is a city people want to live in and so they will pay what it costs -- which often put those who can pay first in line. I have also been concerned since I was a child about the environment. Yesterday I was reading about the construction of ICE detention centers and data centers and was prompted to wonder about the people who seem to me to have no moral compass, only a thirst for money or power.
Just over a year ago I returned to the Quaker meeting I belonged to as a student over 40 years ago. There I find people who make up a good community and sometimes the hour of near-silence gives me peace.
Virginia—Kudos to you for having worked in historic preservation. It takes great effort to build grand things, and very little effort to tear them down. Also, may the Quaker meetings and shared silence restore your spirit.
I love that your essays are both poignant and hopeful -- they strike just the right balance, and this one was especially beautiful.
If it helps, I'm "only" 38 but I too feel the world has sped up to a point that's hard to keep pace with. Every year there is some unprecedented technology, it seems, and the anxiety and gloom in the general atmosphere seem to worsen. I think it ultimately comes down to the Internet and how it has evolved, iterated and expanded over the decades. It's taken over almost every aspect of our lives.
All that said, I think there are more of us than we realize and who knows, an analogue Renaissance may be in the making. I'm grateful you continue to write.
I keep a private copy of your posts that resonate with me, like this one. I often find that I gain fresh insight by reading them again, later.
They are held alongside other articles in a folder named 'A Grandfather's Tale' - not because they have necessarily been written by an actual grandfather but because they crystalize some of the wisdoms, such as a grandfather, might relate to others.
The Canterbury Tales and the various pilgrims come to mind.
It’s interesting. We’re of the same age, approximately. I’m 67. And sometimes I feel like I’m from a different era. But alternately, I am immersed in the current one. I remember the start of the internet, and cellphones. I owned an original Mac. But I’m actively studying AI so I can use it for research. I guess I’
ve both feet firmly in the past and the present…..
Joann—Yes, as much as I miss and lament the best of the past, I too immerse myself to some degree in today's world of technology. Without digital tools it would be much harder for me to share my work. And so, we must smile at the past but also celebrate the good found in today's era.
Wonderful, John, as always. I hope you write your novel.
As a retired Superior Court reporter in San Diego after 26 years, I wrote my novel, The Court Reporter’s Tightrope, in 2023. Took just under a year to write — was great fun — amazing and fulfilling.
i can really relate to this essay John. i grew up in the apricot orchards of the Santa Clara Valley, when the biggest thing in Mountain View was Moffett Field. i think that's why i love watching "The Streets of San Francisco" so much. those were "my time". i'd like to visit that place in Italy with the sculptor and also France where the monks were/are? i plan to watch "Train Dreams" soon and see if i like it as much as "Perfect Days". where were you a policeman? is that town still slow and steady? i find more kindness when things are simple and move slower but haven't yet figured out where that best community might be for me and my dog Freddie. you've inspired me to start using an actual dedicated camera that isn't part of my phone. it somehow feels more real. and i'm also learning how to operate a ham radio (with my landline phone) just in case the grid goes down in the future.
Florencia—I served 26 years with the Scotts Valley Police Department in Santa Cruz County, California. The town has a population close to 12K. It's a lovely community, although the vibe feels different from the old days. I was born and raised in the hills of Los Gatos, California, and remember Moffett Field. Also remember Karl Malden and Michael Douglas in those Streets of San Francisco shows. If you liked the film Perfect Days (I loved it) then I think you'll love Train Dreams. I hope you find a nice camera to accompany you and Freddie on walks. I don't know if the sculptor in Volterra, Italy is still there, and as far as I know, the Carthusian monks are still in France and other monasteries around the world, but they're not open to the public.
All very true, of course. However, My husband and I are not engaging with this kind of thinking. We don't feel anything is passing us by and we are still in our era.
Instead, we are embracing OUR OWN values and preferences. We reject bad culture, destructive and addictive tech, unhealthy habits.
We listen to the music we like, we watch the films we revere, no matter what era they are from. We have never heard Beyonce, Taylor Swift, etc. Not interested. Don't eat fast food; cook at home. Don't care about the supposed best films at the Oscars. The good ones seldom win.
We are not in the mainstream in most ways, and that includes our physical and mental health. We use tech, of course, but only as a tool, a wise servant.
From Google: Harvard University psychologist Ellen Langer's 1979 "Counterclockwise" study, often referred to as the "counterclockwise" study, had men in their 70s-80s live for a week in a 1959-simulated retreat. By acting as if they were 20 years younger, participants showed significant, measurable improvements in physical strength, posture, vision, hearing, memory, and cognitive abilities.
I wonder, was it because they could ignore how 1979 made them feel?
We're not unalike, Ruth. My wife and I read books, watch DVDs of good movies, and ignore much of the popular culture's media and nonsense. We exercise, enjoy home cooked meals, our pets, and passions. It's just a shame that so much of our life is a kind of retreat from what's going on out there, whereas there was a time when it was more fun to be a part of it. Thanks for reading.
66 here and boy did this resonate with me! It is an odd thing to have your entire frame of reference, everyone you grew up, icons in culture, etc. appear to the masses as from a bygone era and irrelevant. It's difficult to walk the tightrope between now and then. I am an extremely curious person and observer and for the most part always looking for new things in writing, music, etc. so that helps, but there is definitely a melancholy to this time I now live in.
when they tore down my old school, I felt sad. And when they tore down the house mom and dad and the grandfathers built by hand, I cried, almost more than when mom passed (she was demented, in a wheelchair).
The sense of irrelevancy is not uncommon to aging. Our culture is youth and beauty focused, as well as forever attached to the next great thing. But one saving grace is wisdom, and to never lose your sense of curiosity and wonder. Thanks for reading, Laura.
The opening lines of the novel the go-between by LP Hartley is “the past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.” Which is how a lot of us feel as we grow older.
Noel—My take is a little different: The past is a familiar country, where we did things differently. It's the present world that's often foreign to me. I have not read LP Hartley's book, but sounds interesting.
Great column, JW. I think you once sent a post with a clip from No Country for Old Men. I’ve watched it several times since and it fits here: “you can’t stop what’s comin’.”
I think the older we get the more most of us live on nostalgia! After seeing the Olympic skating, I remembered a couple in the trophee Lalique years ago. It took me several days to find who it was, but 2 days ago, I found them! For some reason the young skaters jump and jump but there is little real skating, going around the rink and making figures... so there goes, I got all nostalgic too. And Friday I moved my writing desk, and found a box of old cards and letters. The last friend who hand wrote letters, she is gone for years now. I hate texts, and do not respond to them, but my Emails don't get read anymore. From the Ecards, usually half respond, the rest does not even open it.
Now I think of it, I got an alabaster vase from a friend in Belgium, when she visited Italy. Still an avid knitter, I can confirm that working with my hands (and seeing my snoring dog at my feet) always makes me smile, just like the old fashioned flowers in the yard, and the spring greens. We can still smile. Can the young still smile? Do they feel the same quiet joy in simple things? Or are they too much in a hurry to get old? Were we like that when we were young?
Ingrid—These lines you wrote are beautiful: "We can still smile. Can the young still smile? Do they feel the same quiet joy in simple things? Or are they too much in a hurry to get old? Were we like that when we were young?" I miss getting letters, too. Texts and emails have no magic, no humanity. And yes, working with your hands, there's something satisfying and restorative about it. I've been thinking about that of late. Thinking maybe it's time to get back to some oil painting. Work with my hands.
Jonathan—It was a beautiful film, Train Dreams. Thank goodness there are still a few people making such movies. A balm for those of us who long for depth and meaning and poignancy over Superman remakes, political rants, and formulaic movies.
Another poignant and thought-provoking essay. It sent me down my own memory lane, which surprisingly, includes a stint working in the gift shop at the Ice Capades Chalet at Fashion Island in the early 80's. Thank you again for your writing. Looking forward to that novel!
Thanks, Sandra. Ah, Ice Capades Chalet. My high school girlfriend worked in the gift shop. On Friday nights we'd hold hands and skate together to the music.
Your weekly posts always strike a chord with me. It reminds me of an observation yesterday. We were in Lowe’s looking at patio furniture. Another couple sat down next to us and we imagined the furniture in our backyards together, a moment from a bygone era.
Those kinds of serendipitous interactions are the best. Whenever I strike up a conversation in public, waiting in a line or at a doctor's office, I find most people are happy to converse. Happy to put down the phone and truly connect with someone. It's like we revive that pleasant thread connecting us all, the thread of community. Thanks, Nancy.
Just beautiful! I loved this essay - as an older person, there’s so much I relate to. You always make me think and feel, and I can’t wait for your novel. Thank you.
John, I was so struck by your piece. I have had similar feelings over the past few days. My first job and most rewarding one was working in historic preservation. Now the city I live in is tearing down older homes left and right. But I fear the multi-families they hope to built will never be occupied by those who need a home; this is a city people want to live in and so they will pay what it costs -- which often put those who can pay first in line. I have also been concerned since I was a child about the environment. Yesterday I was reading about the construction of ICE detention centers and data centers and was prompted to wonder about the people who seem to me to have no moral compass, only a thirst for money or power.
Just over a year ago I returned to the Quaker meeting I belonged to as a student over 40 years ago. There I find people who make up a good community and sometimes the hour of near-silence gives me peace.
Virginia—Kudos to you for having worked in historic preservation. It takes great effort to build grand things, and very little effort to tear them down. Also, may the Quaker meetings and shared silence restore your spirit.
I love that your essays are both poignant and hopeful -- they strike just the right balance, and this one was especially beautiful.
If it helps, I'm "only" 38 but I too feel the world has sped up to a point that's hard to keep pace with. Every year there is some unprecedented technology, it seems, and the anxiety and gloom in the general atmosphere seem to worsen. I think it ultimately comes down to the Internet and how it has evolved, iterated and expanded over the decades. It's taken over almost every aspect of our lives.
All that said, I think there are more of us than we realize and who knows, an analogue Renaissance may be in the making. I'm grateful you continue to write.
Brenda thank you for your comment. I am glad not only us older folks (68 here) have this feeling about the racing technology.
How wonderful an analogue Renaissance would be. Thanks for reading and the kind words, Brenna.
I keep a private copy of your posts that resonate with me, like this one. I often find that I gain fresh insight by reading them again, later.
They are held alongside other articles in a folder named 'A Grandfather's Tale' - not because they have necessarily been written by an actual grandfather but because they crystalize some of the wisdoms, such as a grandfather, might relate to others.
The Canterbury Tales and the various pilgrims come to mind.
Honored to be included in your Grandfather's Tale folder, AC. Thanks so much.
It’s interesting. We’re of the same age, approximately. I’m 67. And sometimes I feel like I’m from a different era. But alternately, I am immersed in the current one. I remember the start of the internet, and cellphones. I owned an original Mac. But I’m actively studying AI so I can use it for research. I guess I’
ve both feet firmly in the past and the present…..
Joann—Yes, as much as I miss and lament the best of the past, I too immerse myself to some degree in today's world of technology. Without digital tools it would be much harder for me to share my work. And so, we must smile at the past but also celebrate the good found in today's era.
Wonderful, John, as always. I hope you write your novel.
As a retired Superior Court reporter in San Diego after 26 years, I wrote my novel, The Court Reporter’s Tightrope, in 2023. Took just under a year to write — was great fun — amazing and fulfilling.
All my best wishes, Jean Lubin
Thanks, Jean, and good for you for writing a novel. Many talk about it, few accomplish it.
i can really relate to this essay John. i grew up in the apricot orchards of the Santa Clara Valley, when the biggest thing in Mountain View was Moffett Field. i think that's why i love watching "The Streets of San Francisco" so much. those were "my time". i'd like to visit that place in Italy with the sculptor and also France where the monks were/are? i plan to watch "Train Dreams" soon and see if i like it as much as "Perfect Days". where were you a policeman? is that town still slow and steady? i find more kindness when things are simple and move slower but haven't yet figured out where that best community might be for me and my dog Freddie. you've inspired me to start using an actual dedicated camera that isn't part of my phone. it somehow feels more real. and i'm also learning how to operate a ham radio (with my landline phone) just in case the grid goes down in the future.
Florencia—I served 26 years with the Scotts Valley Police Department in Santa Cruz County, California. The town has a population close to 12K. It's a lovely community, although the vibe feels different from the old days. I was born and raised in the hills of Los Gatos, California, and remember Moffett Field. Also remember Karl Malden and Michael Douglas in those Streets of San Francisco shows. If you liked the film Perfect Days (I loved it) then I think you'll love Train Dreams. I hope you find a nice camera to accompany you and Freddie on walks. I don't know if the sculptor in Volterra, Italy is still there, and as far as I know, the Carthusian monks are still in France and other monasteries around the world, but they're not open to the public.
Beautiful writing, as usual. Thank you.
All very true, of course. However, My husband and I are not engaging with this kind of thinking. We don't feel anything is passing us by and we are still in our era.
Instead, we are embracing OUR OWN values and preferences. We reject bad culture, destructive and addictive tech, unhealthy habits.
We listen to the music we like, we watch the films we revere, no matter what era they are from. We have never heard Beyonce, Taylor Swift, etc. Not interested. Don't eat fast food; cook at home. Don't care about the supposed best films at the Oscars. The good ones seldom win.
We are not in the mainstream in most ways, and that includes our physical and mental health. We use tech, of course, but only as a tool, a wise servant.
From Google: Harvard University psychologist Ellen Langer's 1979 "Counterclockwise" study, often referred to as the "counterclockwise" study, had men in their 70s-80s live for a week in a 1959-simulated retreat. By acting as if they were 20 years younger, participants showed significant, measurable improvements in physical strength, posture, vision, hearing, memory, and cognitive abilities.
I wonder, was it because they could ignore how 1979 made them feel?
We're not unalike, Ruth. My wife and I read books, watch DVDs of good movies, and ignore much of the popular culture's media and nonsense. We exercise, enjoy home cooked meals, our pets, and passions. It's just a shame that so much of our life is a kind of retreat from what's going on out there, whereas there was a time when it was more fun to be a part of it. Thanks for reading.
It's good to know we are not alone! Stay well, John.
66 here and boy did this resonate with me! It is an odd thing to have your entire frame of reference, everyone you grew up, icons in culture, etc. appear to the masses as from a bygone era and irrelevant. It's difficult to walk the tightrope between now and then. I am an extremely curious person and observer and for the most part always looking for new things in writing, music, etc. so that helps, but there is definitely a melancholy to this time I now live in.
when they tore down my old school, I felt sad. And when they tore down the house mom and dad and the grandfathers built by hand, I cried, almost more than when mom passed (she was demented, in a wheelchair).
Ingrid—They can tear down the buildings, but not the memories. Not what they meant to you.
The sense of irrelevancy is not uncommon to aging. Our culture is youth and beauty focused, as well as forever attached to the next great thing. But one saving grace is wisdom, and to never lose your sense of curiosity and wonder. Thanks for reading, Laura.
The opening lines of the novel the go-between by LP Hartley is “the past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.” Which is how a lot of us feel as we grow older.
A great novel. I read it recently.
Noel—My take is a little different: The past is a familiar country, where we did things differently. It's the present world that's often foreign to me. I have not read LP Hartley's book, but sounds interesting.
Great column, JW. I think you once sent a post with a clip from No Country for Old Men. I’ve watched it several times since and it fits here: “you can’t stop what’s comin’.”
https://www.reddit.com/r/videos/s/Xu2HTCFykw
Good memory, Tom. I wrote about article on Medium titled, "You Can't Stop What's Coming" and I included that amazing scene from No Country for Old Men. Here's a free link to the essay: https://medium.com/personal-growth/you-cant-stop-what-s-coming-b499d5fc407c?source=friends_link&sk=516235d5f74b117dbea6593663bcae4a
Hello John. This post really 'landed' for me, on so many levels. Thank you. Bob Stevens
You're welcome, Bob. Thanks for reading.
I think the older we get the more most of us live on nostalgia! After seeing the Olympic skating, I remembered a couple in the trophee Lalique years ago. It took me several days to find who it was, but 2 days ago, I found them! For some reason the young skaters jump and jump but there is little real skating, going around the rink and making figures... so there goes, I got all nostalgic too. And Friday I moved my writing desk, and found a box of old cards and letters. The last friend who hand wrote letters, she is gone for years now. I hate texts, and do not respond to them, but my Emails don't get read anymore. From the Ecards, usually half respond, the rest does not even open it.
Now I think of it, I got an alabaster vase from a friend in Belgium, when she visited Italy. Still an avid knitter, I can confirm that working with my hands (and seeing my snoring dog at my feet) always makes me smile, just like the old fashioned flowers in the yard, and the spring greens. We can still smile. Can the young still smile? Do they feel the same quiet joy in simple things? Or are they too much in a hurry to get old? Were we like that when we were young?
Ingrid—These lines you wrote are beautiful: "We can still smile. Can the young still smile? Do they feel the same quiet joy in simple things? Or are they too much in a hurry to get old? Were we like that when we were young?" I miss getting letters, too. Texts and emails have no magic, no humanity. And yes, working with your hands, there's something satisfying and restorative about it. I've been thinking about that of late. Thinking maybe it's time to get back to some oil painting. Work with my hands.
Thank you! as an old white guy, I'm feeling a bit of what you give words to and what i sensed in Train Dreams. Thank you.
Jonathan—It was a beautiful film, Train Dreams. Thank goodness there are still a few people making such movies. A balm for those of us who long for depth and meaning and poignancy over Superman remakes, political rants, and formulaic movies.
Another poignant and thought-provoking essay. It sent me down my own memory lane, which surprisingly, includes a stint working in the gift shop at the Ice Capades Chalet at Fashion Island in the early 80's. Thank you again for your writing. Looking forward to that novel!
Thanks, Sandra. Ah, Ice Capades Chalet. My high school girlfriend worked in the gift shop. On Friday nights we'd hold hands and skate together to the music.
Your weekly posts always strike a chord with me. It reminds me of an observation yesterday. We were in Lowe’s looking at patio furniture. Another couple sat down next to us and we imagined the furniture in our backyards together, a moment from a bygone era.
Those kinds of serendipitous interactions are the best. Whenever I strike up a conversation in public, waiting in a line or at a doctor's office, I find most people are happy to converse. Happy to put down the phone and truly connect with someone. It's like we revive that pleasant thread connecting us all, the thread of community. Thanks, Nancy.
Just beautiful! I loved this essay - as an older person, there’s so much I relate to. You always make me think and feel, and I can’t wait for your novel. Thank you.
Glad you enjoyed the essay, Brenda. As for the novel, it's in its infancy, but the shape of it and what I want to say are percolating in my mind.
Got it. It’ll be worth waiting for I’m sure… 😀