The Good Old Days

There’s a time in each of our lives we look back upon often. We remember those times as the happiest of our lives. We reminisce about all the good times we had while vaguely recalling anything bad that may have happened.

The good ol’ days.

Those days for me are my freshman and sophomore years in high school. I had attended two different schools in 6th grade, and then again in 8th grade. Entering my freshman year of high school, I was determined not to make any friends because I knew we would just move again and I would lose them all. I became good at alienating people.

Halfway through my freshman year a new kid showed up in class. His name was Lee and we hit it off immediately. As a bonus, he lived with his grandparents about a mile away from our house which, out in the country, is practically right next door.

For the next year and a half life was great. Mostly. There were tiffs with my dad. Typical teenage rebelliousness, but I ended up making a lot of friends my sophomore year, when I first began to believe that maybe we wouldn’t move again. I fell in love for the first time my sophomore year. I learned how to drive. I liked my teachers – even the history teacher who scolded us because our “inbred” parents failed to pass a school levy. I skipped school for the first time ever. I had a shop teacher who was missing fingers.

We had an in-ground pool and a 3-acre yard. Many good times were had in the couple of years we lived in that house. Swimming day and night. Hide and seek in the dark. Playing baseball, football, soccer, or golf out in our huge yard. Running for my life when a farmer chased me off his land wielding a shotgun. 

This is a surprisingly accurate depiction of that farmer, except he was older and had gray hair.

I’ve had many dreams take place in the house we lived in there, which leads me to believe my subconscious agrees that those years are the good ol’ days. Last year I counted all of the residences I’ve had throughout my life and I think I came up with 27. Out of those 27 that house is the only one which I dream about.

When I left that house a downward spiral of one hardship to the next began. I went from living in that house to a disheveled, cock-roach infested trailer. I had a step-father who paid the bills by stealing. I attended three more schools during my junior and senior years.  Not long after high school I was emotionally blackmailed into a marriage I wanted no part of. Then I got divorced, remarried, and divorced again. It’s really no wonder why I look back at my first couple of years in high school as the good ol’ days. I had no responsibility. No worries. I had a shitload of friends, and, though I’d already had some tough times life hadn’t yet beaten all hope out of me.

Those days out in the country were the good ol’ days. Carefree and fun.

Post inspired by today’s Daily Prompt

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About Twindaddy (334 Articles)
Sometimes funny. Sometimes serious. Always genuine.

21 Comments on The Good Old Days

  1. I think we’ve lived in about the same number of places. I always come up with a different number, but it hovers around 27 – 30.

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  2. You’re not that old, Scott, to reminisce about good old days just yet. 🙂 You got several decades ahead of you to try to top your high school experience.

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  3. That’s a helluva lot of moving around. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to start over that many times. I’ve lived in five places my whole life, all within about five blocks of each other. I’m a real homebody…I like knowing this place so well.

    BUT…there’s always a chance for life to improve and for times in your future to become ‘the good ol’ days’.

    That’s my plan, anyway.

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  4. Here is my 2 cents,

    The past is past, you can’t do anything about it…..
    You never know what the future may bring…
    The present is a gift you hold in your hand right now.

    We tend to remember the good o’l days. And it is good to have those memories. Those bad o’l days well they seem to have sucked majorly (trust me I can relate) but they have helped form you into the blogger and friend that we all love. For all the shit they were at least that is the Silver Lining.

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  5. Very nice. Hold on to those good memories for life. 🙂

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  6. Hang inthere Scott. If I’ve learned anything in life it is that good days appear just as randomly as bad days and you never know when one might show up.

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  7. I can’t imagine having to move that many times. Some lovely memories though. I also find myself getting rather nostalgic about the past.

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  8. 27….. holy geez!!! I’ve only had three in my entire life… and the first I can barely remember because it only covered the first 2 and a half years of my life. Oddly enough, my dreams almost always involve the house I grew up in rather than where I live now…

    On that note… did Mecca ever creep into your dreams back in the day? There’s nothing I hate more than working all night, and then dreaming about being at work during the day…

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  9. When I think of my good old days I feel both happy and sad. I thought I had moved around a lot but moving 27 times, wow that must have been hard.

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