The spousal unit and I often enjoy in-depth discussions. It's true. The man really can do more than grunt. Oh, I'm sorry. That's a politically incorrect statement. We can't man bash any longer. Oh, wait. He's "mine" so I can say that.
I'm so confused as to what's proper and what's not. Utopia is out and dystopia is in. Humor is out and gloom is in. It's a different world.
Back in the day, Maryland schools resumed the day after Labor Day. Somewhere along the way, that changed. Gov. Larry Hogan proposed adopting a more traditional schedule for Maryland schools as a way to save upwards of $100 million in the school/education budget, and this became a BAD thing. Soooo I can only assume spending more taxpayer money is in and saving taxpayer money is out.
Yeah, no shock, that.
Hogan's proposal led us - me and the hubby - to a discussion of our school days. RC is almost ten years older than me, but our experiences are similar. We rode a school bus and we had to walk to a central spot with all the other kids to get on the bus. There was no stopping every fifty feet for individual curb service - and fuel was a lot cheaper back then.
Spring break? What
The music program: my choice was to ignore it since they didn't exactly promote rock 'n roll but RC played lead guitar in various bands for over thirty years. He still won't let me hang his Strat on the wall for decoration, though.
Gym class. Basketball? Why? Archery? Why? Although now I won't mind being skilled with a weapon that launches a deadly projectile. 'Nuff said on that.
The exterior doors are locked? Someone is about to get an ass-kicking from the principal and they scurried away to hide. So the janitor locked 'em in. Other than that, the doors were not locked.
Take a gun to school? Are you
We definitely came of age in a different time. We worry about the quality of education the grandsons received. We know how well they did in cross country track, but can they make change without a cash register read-out telling them the amount? Simple things.
I can't say that RC and I abhor progress because we don't. We each have our own computers, smart phones, and Kindles. (I win because I also have a laptop!) Endless hours are spent sharing neat little apps and tips to make all the toys run better and give more enjoyment. We've embraced Prime videos, Netflix and network apps. Someone even brought home a smart TV recently (my checkbook did not take that hit).
I love being able to do work at home and email it to myself for later retrieval. And of course, I'm proud to be an e-published author with blogs, facebook, and twitter at my fingertips. I do my own website and I've recently mastered the art of book covers. And I drive a car without a carburetor that still ranks as American Muscle.
Speaking of art, there's an art-like beauty to the ways life changes from generation to generation. But as the world turns, I feel a sort of sadness, or perhaps melancholy, for those things children today will never know - because we allowed them to slip away.
And one of those things we allowed to fall away are the sweet hours of the Labor Day weekend. The unofficial end of summer and the last dwindling moments of September's sunlit freedom before school starts again.