I walk through these rooms but none of them are mine

My mom's old high school yearbook has got me to thinking of how much things have changed since then.

I couldn't find an equivalent for 1939 prices, so the chart at right will have to do. And I don't think I need to post 2015 prices as a comparison; we all know what they are.

Of course, this is all ancient history, just as the yearbook is. Those days are gone, those prices are gone, and I've posted it only to give an indication of the world she (and my dad) lived in.

I don't know how much my grandparents made, but it wasn't a lot. Relatively speaking though, the cost of living vs. salaries then and today was most likely fairly equivalent; my point being that today the prices we pay are not really more onerous in comparison to salaries than they were in 1938.

Although I can dream of that price for gasoline.

The Hughesville of 1939 was probably not a whole lot different that I remember it in the 70s, although there was more commerce back then, including three furniture factories and an operating railroad. But there was no Lycoming Mall five miles away, and shopping was mostly self-contained within the borough. There were four churches, almost that many bars, and the county fair was the biggest event of the year. A proverbial small town, more than a bit gossipy, no diversity, and neighbors who cared about each other. People then were still talking about the time when Amelia Earhart mistook Hughesville for Bellefonte and stopped at the landing strip next to the fair grounds to refuel, eventually walking up town for lunch.

I assume the effects of the depression were still being felt in late '30s Hughesville. And, of course, Hitler and The Big One were on the horizon. But I still imagine that the 1939 graduates felt a fairly bright future was ahead of them

I have no way of knowing my mom's dreams at graduation -- I do know she went to work at the local 5&10, where she met my dad. And she seemed happy being a mom and housewife, but I can never be sure.

I wish I knew more.

So this is not a love note to the "The Good Old Days." At least not in the traditional notion of that phrase -- you know, less crime, easier pace, fewer worldly problems, you could let your kids out of the house by themselves, etc

However, in another sense, maybe it is sort of my peripheral love note and wispy remembrance: imagining a time when my parents were still alive, with an infinite future, and the promise of possibilities.