OFF TOPIC

Several years ago we planted onions. We got three bundles and planted them all. The end result was a wheel barrow full of onions ranging in size from tennis balls to golf balls.

This year we planted onions again. Had trouble finding them. The local plant shop did not have any. They did not have much of anything exept high prices. Went to Home Depot and the place looked deserted. Deserted of plants. Lots of empty shelves. On a hunch we stopped at Bruce Millers nursery. They did not have much either but they did have onions at $1.50 a bundle.

Not sure how many are in a bundle. At least 50. All three bundles are now planted. This time the soil was rich having been recently improved with lots of compost.

We expect to grow a good crop of onions.

Yeah, I know, you can buy a 5lb bag of onions for $3.00, but we like to grow things.

There seems to be a curious tendency for people to remember the good old days with more relish and satisfaction than what they are experiencing in the present.

Not everyone can identify a ‘good old day’ period of time, but folk older than thirty years of age generally have no problem reflecting on better times in the past.

An even more curious phenomena is that people always seem to remember only the good things. Then they compare those good things to the bad things they are experiencing currently without any consideration for the bad things of the past or the good things of the present.

The result is a completely unfair comparison.

Sometimes we get a chance to visit the old days by going back to the locations of our childhood and adolescence. If less than fifty years have passed there is a better than average chance that those buildings, stores, and haunts of our earlier life are still there waiting our return, maybe.

I recently had a chance to visit my old high school. The high school I attended was in an upper scale neighborhood. At least so it seemed when compared to my lower middle class roots.

The school building was a superb example of 50s architecture and named after a famous personality whoes memory was honored.

Happy memories of graduation were recalled as I drove to the location. When I got there I was shocked to see a ten foot chain link fence encircling the high school and the grounds. The fence was topped with a generous quantity of razor wire. It looked as though the school had been turned into a prison.

I left vowing never again to try and relive days that were forever gone. No, you can’t go back home because the home in your recollections no longer exists.