Bittersweet Nostalgia

By Andrew R. Duckworth

I remember the old ways of life, getting calls on the phone hanging on a cradle in the living room or kitchen. I remember the soft orange glow of morning before we were occupied by a screen in our hands. I remember being present, not having my attention pulled from one direction to the next—focused. The news was something you watched for thirty minutes in the evening. Now, I see such things only in film.

Nostalgia is bittersweet, offering us a glimpse of something we’ve lost and yearn for. We purchased iPhones and, not long after, found our life becoming busier. “Convenience” was the selling point. And then, we backed ourselves into a corner one way or another. If you don’t have access to the 24/7 news cycle, you’ll miss what another technocrat or authoritarian wants to do to you, not for you, but they’ll always tell you it’s for your best interest. Somehow, even looking at the sunrise doesn’t feel the same. It feels stale, lonely—isolating. I listen to even the 80’s pop songs I don’t like just to somehow keep it on life support, the music that once echoed through radios all the way through the 90s.

Maybe it is just me getting older. I imagine that those coming to age in the 70s or 80s probably had plenty of grievances throughout the 90s and 00s. I remember going into the same breakfast joint each morning as a child and seeing the same table of old folks in the corner, old farmers in their hats and boots, coffee and cigarettes. They would talk about everything—pancakes, soil, deer, the weather, God knows what else. I can’t imagine what they might be talking about today if they were still around, but, even for someone who despises small talk, I hope it would be the same things. I miss all of it.

Nostalgia is what I have of it today—old memories that I hope don’t fade that bring about that little bit of joy that is missing from the world. Maybe someday, I’ll find my group of folks who I like enough to sit and talk with for hours over coffee or whiskey and we won’t talk about the shit state of the world. We won’t have phones in our hands. We’ll talk about the sunny days, the soil, the deer, and, damnit, we’ll talk about some pancakes.