Bring Back The Simple Times

In the “adult” world most of us now find ourselves in, I long for something. A place and time that existed before the clock seemed so important, and prior to the political correctness movement, that pervades our everyday lives. Even now, I miss the simple times that existed when I was a child, where families prayed together, played together, and stayed together.

This was a time where on Saturday nights children played in the fields and woods, and the adults sat behind my grandparents’ house talking about whatever adults talked about. On Sunday mornings, families went to church together and then everyone sat down for lunch together. Whereas nowadays we all go our separate ways, and Sunday now seems to be just another day of the week. When I was a child, the only businesses that were open were some gas stations and a few restaurants. Even the malls used to close on Sunday. When did the Lord’s Day become so unimportant to our lives?

Longingly, I hope for a time again where the adults would laugh about our childish pranks, and if they went too far, punishment was sure by ones parents, but never were they considered felonious like today. Those were the times when children from an early age knew the dangers of a firearm, and how to use them safely.

Achingly, I long for a time again when it never mattered whether your doors were locked or not. Never do I remember having to knock on either of my grandparents’ doors because they were always unlocked when I arrived, and inside were some of the sweetest people, who no matter what they were doing, managed to stop, sit, and really wanted to know what was happening in your life.

Those were the days when children could play outside from sunup to way past sunset, with no one worried about their safety or what they were doing. When all the children in the neighborhood would assemble in one yard, and the mother of that child, without stressing or complaining, would bring out drinks and snacks for every child assembled.

In the days before cell phones, every child knew the sound of his or her mother, and no matter how far you seemed away from the house you could hear when she called your name and without a doubt, you knew to hurry home. Even now if I close my eyes, I can hear my mother or my grandmother calling me home for suppertime.

Even the streets of the towns we lived all seemed a little like Mayberry. As a child, I remember my aunt who was only two years older and myself going from store to store by ourselves in our little town. Never was our safety in question, because everybody knew each other and everyone looked out for each other as well.

Today I dream of those simple times when all respected the Flag of our great country and everyone saluted as it passed. Bring back those days when prayer permeated our society and neighbors really cared for one another and helped anytime there was a need. May God above show us how in all our progress we have forgotten just what it means to be neighbor?

Reverse the clock and take me back to the simple times I remember from the days of my youth. Those were the days that made us who we are, and the memories of those times are not that far behind us. Maybe if we all were to sit down and reminisce a little we could capture in our hearts all that made those simple times so special, and maybe bring back those simple times once again.