When I hear someone of my generation, or close to my generation, waxing lyrical over the &uot;good old days,&uot; I find myself inclined toward the conviction that I’m listening to someone with a somewhat imperfect memory.

Thursday, July 19, 2001

When I hear someone of my generation, or close to my generation, waxing lyrical over the &uot;good old days,&uot; I find myself inclined toward the conviction that I’m listening to someone with a somewhat imperfect memory.

Yes, I know. Back then children respected their teachers and parents and there wasn’t all this juvenile delinquency. Well, I was a teenager back in the &uot;the good old days,&uot; and in my maturity I’ve been proud to count among my friends a number of teenagers. If I were to be wrecked on a desert island I’d feel a lot safer with one of them than with one of us. As someone said about Booth Tarkington’s &uot;Seventeen,&uot; if it were written now the title would have to be &uot;Twelve.&uot;

Having said all this, I’m more than willing to admit that there was a certain ambience in connection with my early years that I would be reluctant to have missed. While still quite a child I remember the young men, home from college for summer vacation, walking toward tennis courts. They wore white flannels and in the cool of early morning, brightly striped blazers.

The parents of young girls, in my childhood, usually gave a dance for them. The town in which I lived was too small and unsophisticated to refer to the dances as &uot;coming out&uot; parties. That’s what they were, though. In the dark of the evening you could see Japanese lanterns hanging from trees in their yards and hear music from whatever combination of musicians had been provided.

There was a tranquility and certainty about our daily life that probably, thought we didn’t know it then, began to crumble ever so slightly with World War I, and was swept away entirely by the great depression.

Over the years there have been improvements for which I am daily thankful. I grew up in a town settled largely by displaced Southerners and racism was not only tolerated, it was taken for granted. The newspaper editor of our daily newspaper rarely wrote a column that didn’t contain a belittling joke about those of another race.

It dies hard. It hasn’t been too many years since the wife of one of my cousins said to me, &uot;I don’t know why you always looked down so on the Ku Klux Klan. Some of our best business and professional men were members. It just provided a sort of luncheon club where they could get together.&uot;

Marga Bergie, a friend of mine, and a German war bride, told me some years ago that she takes a German newspaper. She related to me an item she thought might interest me. A group of neo-Nazis had sprung up and were seeking material for uniforms. Apparently fed up with the whole ideology, no one in Germany would provide material or uniforms. Where did they get what they wanted? From a firm in Lincoln, Nebraska.

Anyway a delightful experience Sunday afternoon convinced me that &uot;all the good the past has had / remains to make our own time glad.&uot; Accompanied by friends, Mary Ann Dixen and Maren Ring, I went on a cruise on the Pelican Breeze. It was like stepping back in time. The weather was perfect, not too warm, not too cool.

The high point of the afternoon was entertainment provided by the Escalade Barbershop Quartet. Have you heard the group yet? Consisting of Tom Hawkins, Fairmont; Dan Hopper, Albert Lea; Randy Rogers, Worthington; and Curt Korn, Kiester, it brought back a touch of that tranquility that those of any generation can relish.

They not only sang their own songs. They provided a chance for their enthusiastic audience to join them in a bit of a sing-along. Song sheets were passed out that included the words to such perennial favorites as &uot;Aura Lee&uot;, &uot;Home on the range&uot;, &uot;Let me call you sweetheart&uot;, &uot;Beautiful Dreamer&uot; and others.

Everyone seemed happy with the performance. If you missed it, you can look forward to their next, as I’m doing. They will sing at two performances on Sept. 9th. One at 2 p.m. and one at 4 p.m. on the Pelican Breeze.

Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column appears Thursdays.