A family enjoying a meal together.
Moyo Studio/iStock
My kids think the world was entirely different when I was growing up. They look at me with wonder in their eyes and ask, “what was it like?”
I don’t know what they expect. Perhaps an amalgamation of scenes they’ve seen in movies — not knowing what time period they were witnessing. Was it like “The Goonies?” A group of friends embarking on adventure, without an adult in sight? Was it like “Adventures in Babysitting?” Metallic makeup, ruffled skirts and again, no adult in sight. Or, was it like “Annie?” And the only thing to entertain yourself was choreographing dance tunes with your friends. Or maybe it was like “It’s A Wonderful Life.” Wearing dressing gowns to bed and doctors making house calls.
I try to explain to them that so much has changed, but some things are exactly as they were. Houses, at least in the Midwest, are still made of wood and the foundation of concrete. Cars feature things like Bluetooth and auto lane correct but aside from cyber trucks, they aren’t much different. People still work long days and go home to their families at night. We still go to concerts and museums and parks and the movies, neon yellow butter sticking to our fingers. Bacon packaging still can’t be resealed and bricks of cream cheese dry out on the fridge shelves.
People still fight over how cold they keep their houses or who is taking out the trash and silly magnets from past adventures still adorn our refrigerators. Families still struggle to align their schedules so they can sit around a table together, and eat. But they do.
There weren’t phones at the table or screen time limits. No minutes of the day were spent rejecting the repeated requests for time on the Nintendo Switch. We watched our favorite series on live television and got VHS tapes from the local Blockbuster on Friday nights, accompanied by a pizza delivery.
This isn’t a utopia I’m describing, it’s the 1990s.
I get nostalgic when I think of my childhood and not because I wish to go back. But, because I wish my kids could experience it. While not much has changed, it’s impossible to impart just how much has. And how those things have altered our reality entirely.
Our brains weren’t clogged with electronic inputs at every turn. The first thing we thought of when we woke up wasn’t, “Gotta check my socials.” We weren’t comparing ourselves to a millionaire in L.A. with a perfect body.
News didn’t come to us through questionably sourced 11-second videos. If we were forced to sit through something boring, it built patience. If we were towed along on a long grocery trip or car ride, we noticed things like the way the street signs changed from city to city or the bright pink packaging of the kids’ cereal.
We didn’t fall asleep to the glare of a stranger’s grocery haul or a perfect makeup tutorial. We weren’t attached to devices and constant communication. Sometimes — you just didn’t know where we were.
Our inspiration came from far away places like Paris and Milan by way of New York. Travel still excited us and expanded our horizons. There was more unknown because you couldn’t fully experience a place before experiencing the place. We were influenced by our stylish, well-read friends, not a blonde from Hoboken with a perfect nose and an Amazon Prime account.
Our minds wandered, truly wandered. We weren’t eager to wrap up the activities in real life so we could return to the stories online that help us escape. We were spared from constant comparison and free from the jail of likes and follows. We didn’t document everything so our memories were sharp, uninterrupted by potential captions or hooks.
We can’t go back, although I often wish we could. My gut hurts when I think that my kids will never know that level of simplicity.
But, what we can do is eat together, tonight preferably. Gather up a friend or your family. Set the table, nothing fancy, just have what you need. Google my column. I’d suggest the spaghetti with peas and bacon — it takes just a couple minutes.
Put your phones on airplane mode or better yet, leave them in another room.
Sit down with your company. Savor the way the noodles slip through the savory bacon-flavored sauce and the bright pop of the peas.
Savor the stories from the work day and the recaps of this weekend’s adventures. Notice the gentle smiles or hearty laughter that ring throughout the meal.
We may not have it all, but we can still have dinner.
Whitney Kling
