I was born in the wrong decade
Now, don't take the title too seriously. I am not implying that God didn't create me to be who I am....I am glad He placed me with my parents and gave me Ken to share the rest of my life with. Yet all of my life, I've heard one comment over and over....."You were born in the wrong decade, Meg."
Most people might take that as an insult. I take it as a compliment, realizing that my eclectic, quirky self is shown in all its glory after just a few minutes of getting to know someone. I used to try to hide my true passions and interests. That was a foolish idea.....everything comes to light eventually! And I realized that my true friends would stick around even after knowing what I'm all about. I was right.
Why was I born in the "wrong" decade? Let me show you. (And for those of you who might be older than 50, I realize that my historical ideals might be a little warped. I am an idealist when it comes to these things....and even though I attempt to research the past aside from biased media or Hollywood influences, I'm sure skewed views do slip in every now and then and create a rosy-colored picture.)
-- When faced with the option of going into a hot fashion spot on the street or an eclectic antique shop, I choose the latter. There is nothing quite like going through intricate detailed pieces from the past, imagining who might have used them, imagining myself using them.
-- My pulse raced this year when I read about and saw that vintage 20s and 30s styles were in the fashion forecast for fall. The flapper-look can be seen in the lacy tops, boleros, heavy beaded necklaces, and more. Everything truly does come back around.
-- Even though it's hyper-exaggerated, I believe that I would fit perfectly into the mold of the 1950s housewife. Granted, I might never be able to wear high heels while I mopped my kitchen (I hate heels!), I could so see myself in those waist-tied, sheer aprons, hair kerchiefs, preparing meatloaf and chocolate cream pie while my kids sat in the next room watching The Lone Ranger alongside their pals "Biff" and "Ward."
-- I would just love to have been a spectator at Woodstock. Can you even imagine?.....sitting around in the mud, listening to the most incredible live rock shows ever to be seen?
-- I'd even go way back to the Civil War era. Corsets and petticoats aside, the fashions were beautiful and feminine. The idea that I had to ride a horse to get to any location is romantic to me (probably not to those who aren't animal lovers, I know). Simple living....reading by candlelight, doing needlepoint by the fireplace at Christmastime, making EVERYthing from scratch in the kitchen.
-- I tell Ken often that, if I was a 20-something during WWII, I would have volunteered in one of those canteens. Th idea that I could spend an evening dancing with a soldier about to ship off to war, maybe never to return, being the one last glimmer of hope in his memory....and to see firsthand the individual lives and faces of those who were fighting for my freedom.
-- To see the BeeGees perform live....well, nothing else to say there.
-- To live in a time where dancing was an art, not a mating ritual or a suggestive display of awkward body movements. To live in a time without unnatural food preservatives, artificial colors, or chemical pesticides. To live in a time where music was more revered and more special simply because the only time you could enjoy it was live.
I am glad that I am alive, though, overall, and I know that God caused me to be born in 1978 for a reason. I am not saying that "the good ol' days" were better than today, either....there are merits for both. I just wanted to point out that I could probably be happy no matter when I was born. I appreciate aspects of all points in history. I am grateful for all of the hard work of those who came before I did, leading us to the technological age we live in today.
And to think that today will be the "historical times" that someone else years ahead will write about in their own blogs.... (if there even ARE blogs....)
Most people might take that as an insult. I take it as a compliment, realizing that my eclectic, quirky self is shown in all its glory after just a few minutes of getting to know someone. I used to try to hide my true passions and interests. That was a foolish idea.....everything comes to light eventually! And I realized that my true friends would stick around even after knowing what I'm all about. I was right.
Why was I born in the "wrong" decade? Let me show you. (And for those of you who might be older than 50, I realize that my historical ideals might be a little warped. I am an idealist when it comes to these things....and even though I attempt to research the past aside from biased media or Hollywood influences, I'm sure skewed views do slip in every now and then and create a rosy-colored picture.)
-- When faced with the option of going into a hot fashion spot on the street or an eclectic antique shop, I choose the latter. There is nothing quite like going through intricate detailed pieces from the past, imagining who might have used them, imagining myself using them.
-- My pulse raced this year when I read about and saw that vintage 20s and 30s styles were in the fashion forecast for fall. The flapper-look can be seen in the lacy tops, boleros, heavy beaded necklaces, and more. Everything truly does come back around.
-- Even though it's hyper-exaggerated, I believe that I would fit perfectly into the mold of the 1950s housewife. Granted, I might never be able to wear high heels while I mopped my kitchen (I hate heels!), I could so see myself in those waist-tied, sheer aprons, hair kerchiefs, preparing meatloaf and chocolate cream pie while my kids sat in the next room watching The Lone Ranger alongside their pals "Biff" and "Ward."
-- I would just love to have been a spectator at Woodstock. Can you even imagine?.....sitting around in the mud, listening to the most incredible live rock shows ever to be seen?
-- I'd even go way back to the Civil War era. Corsets and petticoats aside, the fashions were beautiful and feminine. The idea that I had to ride a horse to get to any location is romantic to me (probably not to those who aren't animal lovers, I know). Simple living....reading by candlelight, doing needlepoint by the fireplace at Christmastime, making EVERYthing from scratch in the kitchen.
-- I tell Ken often that, if I was a 20-something during WWII, I would have volunteered in one of those canteens. Th idea that I could spend an evening dancing with a soldier about to ship off to war, maybe never to return, being the one last glimmer of hope in his memory....and to see firsthand the individual lives and faces of those who were fighting for my freedom.
-- To see the BeeGees perform live....well, nothing else to say there.
-- To live in a time where dancing was an art, not a mating ritual or a suggestive display of awkward body movements. To live in a time without unnatural food preservatives, artificial colors, or chemical pesticides. To live in a time where music was more revered and more special simply because the only time you could enjoy it was live.
I am glad that I am alive, though, overall, and I know that God caused me to be born in 1978 for a reason. I am not saying that "the good ol' days" were better than today, either....there are merits for both. I just wanted to point out that I could probably be happy no matter when I was born. I appreciate aspects of all points in history. I am grateful for all of the hard work of those who came before I did, leading us to the technological age we live in today.
And to think that today will be the "historical times" that someone else years ahead will write about in their own blogs.... (if there even ARE blogs....)
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