Why vintage?

[belfastboy]

^^^^^^^
Pretty much the same here. My magical thoughts are generally of the superstitious type (knock on wood, etc.), but I recognize it for what it is.

My thoughts are def not magical as I slide further into the "get off my lawn" phase of life.

 

[tonyb]

Oh, my magical thinking can sometimes run all over the place. My career was more exciting than it actually was. That dame at the book Store has a thing for me. I’m better looking than the evidence supports. My foreign language skills are fantastic. I fit the wise old man stereotype. The list goes on. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I’m perfectly aware of the truth… and know better than to make risky claims to anyone but the man in the mirror. Still, sometimes these exaggerated tales to myself help me get through the day.

My fuzzy personal recollections tend to run in the opposite direction — I effed up this or that thing or did that person wrong or I never was attractive or deserving or that my successes were more due to luck than skill or effort or virtue.

But I’ve long held that people with negative self-images typically have a firmer grip on reality than their more pollyannaish counterparts. And they have better senses of humor, too. So who’d you rather hang with?

Thing is, though, not a one of us is so deserving of other people’s attention as we might sometimes think. If I died tomorrow it would be of little concern to all but a very few people. And that’s true of all of us, even the rich and famous. I might be momentarily saddened by the passing of a celebrity whose work I admired, but I won’t lose sleep over it.

 

[belfastboy]

My fuzzy personal recollections tend to run in the opposite direction — I effed up this or that thing or did that person wrong or I never was attractive or deserving or that my successes were more due to luck than skill or effort or virtue.

But I’ve long held that people with negative self-images typically have a firmer grip on reality than their more pollyannaish counterparts. And they have better senses of humor, too. So who’d you rather hang with?

Thing is, though, not a one of us is so deserving of other people’s attention as we might sometimes think. If I died tomorrow it would be of little concern to all but a very few people. And that’s true of all of us, even the rich and famous. I might be momentarily saddened by the passing of a celebrity whose work I admired, but I won’t lose sleep over it.

I concur with your perspective on 'celebrity' passings.....except for Willie Mays....that one hurt a lot.

 

[tonyb]

^^^^^^
It’s likely I’ll survive another Willie — Nelson, who is now 91 years old. It’ll be a dark day when he goes to the big honky tonk in the sky.

 

[Tiki Tom]

My fuzzy personal recollections tend to run in the opposite direction — I effed up this or that thing or did that person wrong or I never was attractive or deserving or that my successes were more due to luck than skill or effort or virtue.

Oh, absolutely. I remember every mistake I made in my life, every unkind deed, and every stupid thing I’ve said with agonizing clarity. I dread death not for the usual reasons, but because they say you have to sit through a life review where you have to re-experience everything you did. Ugh. No thanks.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I don't dread death at all. It's the runup to it that gives me the creeps.

As to the question of the malleability of reality -- well, just how much do any of us really know, for a positive, objective fact about our own? There is only one person now living who knows the precise circumstances of my birth -- every other person who was in a position to know those facts is now dead. And I, of course, was too young to know what was going on. When my mother dies, as she inevitably will within the next decade or so, the last eyewitness will be gone. And I will never know, exactly and precisely, what happened that day. All I have is a birth certificate and "family lore" which contains its own contradictions. I can presume and I can conclude based on what I've been told. But I can never truly *know.* Can anyone?

And what if some unknown document surfaced tomorrow contradicting everything I think I know about my own reality? Did reality change or did the "reality" that I've constructed out of the available information change? Couldn't that happen to anyone? Just how real is your real?

 

[tonyb]

^^^^^^
“Despite the high cost of living, it remains popular.”

I wish I knew who deserves credit.

 

[belfastboy]

I don't dread death at all. It's the runup to it that gives me the creeps.

As to the question of the malleability of reality -- well, just how much do any of us really know, for a positive, objective fact about our own? There is only one person now living who knows the precise circumstances of my birth -- every other person who was in a position to know those facts is now dead. And I, of course, was too young to know what was going on. When my mother dies, as she inevitably will within the next decade or so, the last eyewitness will be gone. And I will never know, exactly and precisely, what happened that day. All I have is a birth certificate and "family lore" which contains its own contradictions. I can presume and I can conclude based on what I've been told. But I can never truly *know.* Can anyone?

And what if some unknown document surfaced tomorrow contradicting everything I think I know about my own reality? Did reality change or did the "reality" that I've constructed out of the available information change? Couldn't that happen to anyone? Just how real is your real?

I don't know, but I do know enough not to waste any time trying to figure it out. I am the last man standing from my immediate family so regardless of what I believe there is no one left to refute my version. It is my story and I am sticking to it.

 

[tonyb]

…
As to the question of the malleability of reality -- well, just how much do any of us really know, for a positive, objective fact about our own? There is only one person now living who knows the precise circumstances of my birth -- every other person who was in a position to know those facts is now dead. And I, of course, was too young to know what was going on. When my mother dies, as she inevitably will within the next decade or so, the last eyewitness will be gone. And I will never know, exactly and precisely, what happened that day. All I have is a birth certificate and "family lore" which contains its own contradictions. I can presume and I can conclude based on what I've been told. But I can never truly *know.* Can anyone?

And what if some unknown document surfaced tomorrow contradicting everything I think I know about my own reality? Did reality change or did the "reality" that I've constructed out of the available information change? Couldn't that happen to anyone? Just how real is your real?

I’ve been told I was born in a particular place on a particular date. I have no reason to doubt it. But I know that my “official” birth certificate contains a factual error as to biological parentage. So I learned at an early age the distinction between de facto and de jure.

 

[tonyb]

The gist of it is that ain’t nobody paying any of us much nevermind anyway.

This is not to say that people shouldn’t concern themselves with what others think of them (those who argue to the contrary are either delusional or at least potentially sociopathic), but that perseverating on whatever unfortunate things we might have said or done is its own sort of self-centeredness. Perhaps a person remains embarrassed or ashamed by one (or several) unfortunate episodes in his past, but it’s a safe bet that most of the others involved have either forgotten it or forgiven it long again.

 

[Zombie_61]

...As to the question of the malleability of reality -- well, just how much do any of us really know, for a positive, objective fact about our own? There is only one person now living who knows the precise circumstances of my birth -- every other person who was in a position to know those facts is now dead. And I, of course, was too young to know what was going on...All I have is a birth certificate and "family lore" which contains its own contradictions. I can presume and I can conclude based on what I've been told. But I can never truly *know.* Can anyone?

What, you too? Seemed to be quite a bit of this going around some decades ago. When I was in my late teens I was finally told by my older sister (who was also adopted) that I was in fact adopted--an "off the books" adoption. She told me what she believed to be the truth, and soon after my adopting mother did the same, complete with additional information and contradictions. So I tend to stick to the one document that, I think, contains the most truth--my Birth Certificate. Even that might have been doctored, but I suppose I'll never really know. Besides, what difference would it make? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

 

[LizzieMaine]

Hospitals in the 50s and 60s were notorious for keeping information from patients. My older brother died because of hospital malpractice, but this fact was kept hidden from my mother for over thirty years. She was told he died of a "post partum brain hemmorhage," when the fact is that one of the nurses dropped him and hit his head on the edge of the operating table. Ah, the good old days of wholesome family medicine.

 

[ChiTownScion]

Hospitals in the 50s and 60s were notorious for keeping information from patients. My older brother died because of hospital malpractice, but this fact was kept hidden from my mother for over thirty years. She was told he died of a "post partum brain hemmorhage," when the fact is that one of the nurses dropped him and hit his head on the edge of the operating table. Ah, the good old days of wholesome family medicine.

This was in the late 1940's. A friend's sister (toddler) pulled a pot of boiling water off the stove and severely burned herself. Taken to the local hospital and after treatment, was held overnight. Parents went in to visit the next day and were told at the reception desk that their little girl was deceased. Improper supervision in the pediatric unit: Lying on her back, vomited, and choked. Father had recently returned from combat in World War II.

Same hospital I worked at to put myself through law school. I'd always thought that the pediatric unit was a dark, grim place: I'd never want my child treated in it. When I found out what happened to Carol's sister, I had a good reason for thinking that- even if it was 30-plus years later.

Hospital closed in 2000. I was glad to hear it.

 

[tonyb]

^^^^^^
Lest we get misty-eyed about “the good old days,” eh?

 

[tonyb]

.., So I tend to stick to the one document that, I think, contains the most truth--my Birth Certificate. Even that might have been doctored, but I suppose I'll never really know. Besides, what difference would it make? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m “half adopted” myself. My biological father died when I was four months old. I was the youngest of my 21-year-old mother’s three boys. When mom remarried we were all legally adopted and birth certificates were reissued to reflect our new parentage. Those documents may reflect a legal reality, but not a biological one. (FWIW, I take some comfort in the knowledge that I carry none of my stepfather’s genes.)