I was thinking today, as I was listening to a collection of early Statler Brothers hits, that nostalgia is a lot like pornography.
Wait! Lemme ísplain.
Okay, for those of you who are still here, here goes. I listen to those old songs about the good old days when life was simple and easy, and I experience emotions that Iím not entitled to. I have feelings that are based on, if not exactly a lie, then at least a false reality. Heck, theyíre not even my memories. Theyíre someone elseís rose-colored vision of a past that never was.
That doesnít mean the feelings arenít real. Itís just that theyíre not earned. I didnít put anything into them. Instead, I sat back and listened and let the sentimentality wash over me and choke me up, and I sob and sigh just as if I had really lived through World War II with nothing but a silver medal to remind me of...
Well, you get the point. Itís real emotion, though, no matter where it comes from.
Just like porn. I donít think I have to go into details, other than to say that I donít see anything wrong with it, in its place. Itís a passive way to fill a need, but as long as it doesnít hurt anybody, I say let the good times roll.
I mean, those old songs donít do any harm, right?