Old folks

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Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the much older
lady that she should bring her own grocery bags, because plastic bags are
not good for the environment.
The woman apologized to the young girl and explained, “We didn’t have this
‘green thing’ back in my earlier days.”

The young clerk responded, “That’s our problem today. Your generation did
not care enough to save our environment for future generations.”

The older lady said that she was right — our generation didn’t have the
“green thing” in its day. The older lady went on to explain:
Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the
store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized
and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they
really were recycled. But we didn’t have the “green thing” back in our day.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags that we reused for
numerous things. Most memorable besides household garbage bags was the use
of brown paper bags as book covers for our school books. This was to ensure
that public property (the books provided for our use by the school) was not
defaced by our scribblings. Then we were able to personalize our books on
the brown paper bags. But, too bad we didn’t do the “green thing” back then.
We walked up stairs because we didn’t have an escalator in every store and
office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn’t climb into a
300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

But she was right. We didn’t have the “green thing” in our day.

Back then we washed the baby’s diapers because we didn’t have the throw
away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine
burning up 220 volts. Wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back
in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or
sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

But that young lady is right; we didn’t have the “green thing” back in our
day.
Back then we had one TV, or radio, in the house — not a TV in every room.
And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?),
not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen we blended
and stirred by hand because we didn’t have electric machines to do
everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we
used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic
bubble wrap. Back then, we didn’t fire up an engine and burn gasoline just
to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised
by working so we didn’t need to go to a health club to run on treadmills
that operate on electricity.

But she’s right; we didn’t have the “green thing” back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a
plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens
with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blade in a
r azor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got
dull.

But we didn’t have the “green thing” back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to
school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service
in the family’s $45,000 SUV or van, which cost what a whole house did
before the”green thing.” We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an
entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn’t need a
computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles
out in space in order to find the nearest burger joint.

But isn’t it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks
were just because we didn’t have the “green thing” back then?

Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in
conservation from a smart ass young person.

We don’t like being old in the first place, so it doesn’t take much to piss
us off… Especially from a tattooed, multiple pierced smartass who can’t
make change without the cash register telling them how much change to give
back.

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