Three years ago, I became a grandfather, which is the wake up call in life that screams, "Hey you're getting old!".

My granddaughter, Alice, is now a three year old and soon enough I'll be telling her stories about my youth.

My parents used to tell stories of going on dates at malt shops, and riding in those really old cars you see on The History Channel.

I'm sure I'll have my tales of the days when we only had a few TV channels, back when you couldn’t tape or DVR anything, before call waiting, voice mail, and caller ID.

Or perhaps when we had 2 newspapers here in Binghamton, and I was a paperboy for the Sun-Bulletin. I even delivered the Evening Press for a while too.

I'll talk about the times that we had movie theaters all over the triple cities, from Endicott to Binghamton, and that I had a job cleaning them at one time.

We had two high schools in Binghamton, North and Central. There were mom and pop stores all over the place, and most grocery stores were closed on Sundays (like R&S on Robinson & Bigelow). Oh right, and there was also Al’s on Bigelow & East Fredrick, in fact, most businesses in general did not work on Sunday.

My dad and brother worked for GAF and Anitec which made film. I worked there for a short time out of high school, before I joined the Navy. They tore all those building down, when Kodak bought the plant and skipped town.

I could go on and on, but now I realize how my parents and grandparents felt a great satisfaction in talking about those times. I can identify with how they felt when they talked about their youth.

I would like to think that the period that we grew up in defines our character, as much as the youth of today is being shaped now, and who knows what stories they’ll be telling in 30 years.

I think I’ll go watch some old home movies today.

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