The Wonder Years

Posted 8/21/12

Those three little words easily conjure up memories and for many, can instantly evoke a shared time period, when innocence reigned supreme—childhood. Little wonder then, that those memories cause …

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The Wonder Years

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Those three little words easily conjure up memories and for many, can instantly evoke a shared time period, when innocence reigned supreme—childhood. Little wonder then, that those memories cause us to wax nostalgic, sometimes wishing that they didn’t have to end. Inherent in the word nostalgia is “a longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations” (www.google.com). Films such as “Stand by Me” and “The Summer of 42” have expressed this sentiment artistically, and network television hit the jackpot with ABC’s Emmy Award winning “The Wonder Years”—a comedy-drama that enjoyed high ratings and a successful five-year run with its feel-good stroll down memory lane. The series was set in the late 1960s and chronicled the life of 12-year-old Kevin Arnold as he matured into a young man, during a turbulent period in American history. By design, each fictional year in the series took place exactly 20 years before the show aired (1988-1993), and as I watched the show unfold, I felt the waves of nostalgia wash over me, along with much of the country. Each week, America sat down in front of the TV to recall their own Wonder Years, and I was no exception. For me, it was almost a mirror image of my own childhood; just like young Kevin, I was 12 in 1967, and as the storyline progressed into the ‘70s, I went along for the ride.

Now that I’m of a certain age, it’s easy to recall those years with rose-colored glasses, but impossible to forget how American life changed forever following the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, (1963) Martin Luther King (1968) and the end of the “protracted conflict,” better known as the War in Vietnam in 1975. These earth-shattering events all led to what is commonly referred to as the end of the “age of innocence,” and my generation—the Baby Boomers—still mourn. There are times when I feel like my own grandfather, regaling my friends with the old “when-I-was-your-age, I-had-to-walk-five-miles-in-the-snow-to-get-to-school” stories that we endured, as we rolled our eyes and snickered behind Grandpa’s back.

Each Halloween, I “get my grandpa on” and insist on telling young folks what the holiday was like “back in the old days,” when we didn’t think twice about entering a neighbor’s house to bob for apples, or snake through their homemade haunted labyrinth, or worry about razor blades in apples, crowing with delight over receiving a nickel tossed into our goody bags, along with freshly made popcorn balls and candied apples, long before trick-or-treating became something one did in a mall. In point of fact, there were “no malls in the stone age” I tell them, while they roll their eyes and snicker.

As I headed out the door to an all-adult, post-Wonder Years Halloween bash in Bethel, NY (www.dancingcatsaloon.com), these images flooded my thoughts. As I passed through Hortonville, NY, I momentarily thought I was having a flashback, because out of the corner of my eye, I spied kids cavorting through the streets dressed as ghosts, goblins, super heroes and witches, lit by streetlamps, as their parents waited patiently on the curb, encouraging the children to ring their neighbors bells and gleefully shout the old familiar greeting. “Trick or Treat!” they cried, laughing and posing for the admiring adults welcoming them at the door. Momentarily abandoning my destination, I pulled off the road and got out of the truck. Making sure that it was OK with their folks, I chatted with the kids, complimented their spooky attire and took some pictures as they played with the pooch and giggled over my admiration of their costumes and sacks brimming over with honest-to-goodness Halloween plunder. After tossing some lollipops into their bags, I got back in my vehicle, but took a moment to absorb what I had just observed. As if I had stepped back in time, I realized once more what life in the Catskills can still provide, far from the madding crowd. How fortunate we are that life in the Upper Delaware River region allows us to savor the family values and wholesome, traditional, simple pleasures that still abound. Although it’s difficult in this day and age to pull a rabbit out of a hat, it’s still possible (IMHO) to experience magic in the mountains we call home. With the holidays just around the corner, I look forward to glimpsing shining little faces pressed against the glass of shops on Main Street, making wishes, knowing that some will be fulfilled. Realizing that innocence still exists in the hearts of our children gives me hope for their future, and while I understand that those kids will grow up too, I’m joyfully reminded that they will always remember these times—The Wonder Years.

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