In this week’s episode of “What kind of nostalgic goodies does Caiti have up her sleeve?,” I am reminded again of those simpler times. No responsibility, carefree and oblivious. Do I miss them? Sure. Would I trade today-me for yesterday-me? Not a chance. Yesterday-me would not have the appreciation for those wild times that today-me does. 

Raise your hand if your family regales you with fantastic stories of decades ago that make you wonder “Are you embellishing this just a little bit? Did that actually happen?” - and then you discover that - nope - that is all truth; those were the times.

There’s a version of a story that pops up every now and again. My older brother and sister’s memories (enter Gen X). These usually come up when family members reunite after a long spell, and a few gin and tonics later we are sitting around a campfire listening to ‘the station wagon’ story. Full transparency, sometimes it is prompted by me, desperately trying to grasp a tiny bit of serotonin. I’ll summarize it for you.

My mom uses a lot of exclamation points, in writing and in life. My dad does not. She’s just balancing each other out. I get it from her for sure. I mean, for sure!

Does everyone with Boomer parents have a station wagon story? I feel like it’s a right of passage. Today it’s probably a Toyota Sienna - lucky kids; those are like riding on a cloud. Back then it was a 1978 Oldsmobile Cutlass Cruiser Wagon in dull blue with thin white wall tires (the image below wasn’t our actual car, but a spitting image). 

That was ours; classic and embarrassing. No padding on the steering wheel, electric cigarette lighters in the dash, crank windows, bench seats, and no tape deck (kids, google ‘cassette tape’) - just a radio, probably with AM stations only (yikes). And what we had was the excitement of a changed perspective - the way back. Watching where you’d been, not where you were going. The way back was cool. It was better than the back. You didn’t see anything in the back; you were the sandwich fixins covered by bread slices - not cool like the front, and certainly not cool like the way back. The only good part about ‘the back’ was rolling your window down at a stop light and asking the car next to you in your best high society voice, “Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?” 

And then later, the way back was illegal and rebellious - at least in those station wagons. Did you know that the first federal seat belt law went into effect in 1968, which required all new passenger vehicles to have seatbelts? And the first seatbelt enforcement law wasn’t passed until 1984 in New York State - this required you to actually wear the seatbelt. It stopped being ok to sit in the way back - safety laws ushered another new perspective - focus on what’s in front of you. That’s the new cool and I’m here for it, legally and metaphorically. 

I didn’t get those station wagon stories that my older brother and sister had. I did get the chunky 80’s Chevy van memories. Pilot swivel seats, a futon-style back seat, blinds, and brown everything - a perfect family road trip van/soccer tournament van/birthday pool party van. The theory of the way back proved true here as well. Maybe it was so we didn’t have to sit so close to whoever was driving and could giggle about how we were being chauffeur driven around town. The way back was still cool. (just look at my brother and cousin - big way back van smiles) And then later, instead of being driven, we became the driver. We didn’t get to experience the way back the way it used to be. We had to drive ourselves places - eyes on the road ahead. And now if we DO get a chance to enjoy the way back, we can’t - because we get car sick now. The way back is now NOT desirable - it makes us (me) quite literally ill.

Left: 1988. 6-year-old me in the van, returning from the Pizza Hut birthday party where we later went to see The Land Before Time. Clearly sleeping off the trauma I had just experienced. Right: Family road trip in the van, cementing myself in the middle seat; no way back for me. Those are stencils, headphones and a fantastic scrunchie - hot pink!

Station wagons and Chevy vans aside - I hope you didn’t fall too far to the way back - and instead just fell the normal way back - one hour - for the end of daylight saving. 

The fall season is here; it is fall; we are falling. I’m waving bye to summer in that rear window, not nauseous at all because it’s SWEATA WEATHA. Time for fleece and flannel and football and fuzzy coats and freedom and fair elections and the future. I always get excited for that extra hour of sleep, and then spend the rest of the season shaking my fist at myself for trading all those days of light for one hour of sleep that I didn’t even get because I woke up at 5 am instead of 6 am.

If your body also kept you from that additional REM cycle, I hope you spent some of that time making your voting plan. Can we say this is the most important election of our lives? I think yes. Our duty and the right we have to vote is critical this week more than ever. And if you are in search of some last minute encouragement or ephemera to adorn your journal/water bottle/notebook/laptop, look no further than Penny Post’s collection of voting goodies to supplement that “I Voted” sticker. Treat yo’self, you’ve earned it.

And do you know what? Treat yourself to a shopping spree this week, too while you’re at it. Red Barn Mercantiile’s coveted Holiday Unveiling happens Thursday, November 7 from 6-9pm.  Are you ready for an explosion of holiday trees, ornaments, gifts, pillows, discounts, camaraderie and good cheer?! Will you pull a 15%, 20%, or 30% discount at checkout? The best part about it is that all three of our stores will stay open until 9 pm on Thursday and all three of our stores will have a chance to draw up to 30% off your purchase. It’s the best day of the year! We’ll see you there!

Let’s not fall too far to the way back, shall we? Looking through the rear window can be fun, but we are the drivers now and the road ahead is so much more worthwhile. Let’s pave it well.

Here for your super metaphoric storytelling needs,

—Caiti