Anachronistic

Anachronistic

July 02, 2024

I don’t belong.

Here, I do.

Now, I don’t.

I am out of time everywhere I go.

I look like a model from the Sears catalog, circa 1975. Cotton is my choice for fashion forward. Wedges adorn my feet. A floppy hat atop a sundress completes my ensemble. Comfortable, yes! Appropriate for a job interview? In that, we will have to agree to disagree.

For movies, Film Noir is the end all. None of my friends enjoy black and white thrillers. None want to see anyone smoking. I will concede this point. But the attitude. But the plot. The music of “The Third Man”. “Double Indemnity” with Barbara Stanwyck as a provocative housewife. I want to be a provocative housewife! That is until I watch “Gilda”. Then I want to hair flip as Rita Hayworth all day long.

Only if I had hair like Gilda’s. I have hair like Jan Brady, another soul lost in both the wrong time and wrong place.

But I digress.

With every passing day, I become another day further removed from my friends, my family, and my life. I was born in the wrong century. I should have lived when my grandmother lived, where my grandmother lived. She sojourned on the Gulf Shores of Florida when vacationers along I-75 could take in a water skiing show at one of the many roadside attractions of her youth.

I wish that was of my youth. Not video games. Not social media. Definitely not selfie induced walkers of the I-Phone teenage wasteland. Imagine me water skiing pyramid style with a full coverage swimsuit and a Polaroid camera to prove it. I would have a memoir in the making, a best seller, perhaps an ABC After School Special, maybe even more.

That is what I want, even more. Not more of the same, but more of what I want. Time has swept me aside, but it can return me without notice. When it does, I will be old enough to take advantage of the bounty laid at my feet.

Until then, I am feeling good about this, as confirmed by my mood ring.