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We have all heard the saying at one time or another, typically from a father or grandfather. Experience has taught us that any story beginning with “back in my day” should be received politely but with skepticism. It’s not really the storyteller’s fault – time simply has a way of affecting hindsight. Sometimes it’s a positive influence — every time my grandfather told stories about his baseball days, he had more home runs and more championships. Sometimes the influence is negative, as a recalled trip to school evolves from two blocks of sunny sidewalk to eight miles of drudgery through 6 feet of snow and uphill both ways. Must have been a climate change thing – I had no idea Bakersfield streets used to be buried under so much snow 10 months of the year.
The thought recently occurred to me that I am now living the days of adulthood that I will someday recount to my son. In a sense, I am living “my days” now. Of course, he...
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