I keep telling my family, especially after every nice meal, “these ARE the good old days.”
We had some beautiful fresh codfish tonight, fillets 2” thick, melt in your mouth. That fish probably came from an ocean a long, long way away, and passed through a lot of brokers along the way to my plate.
I wonder how long we average Americans shall be able to enjoy such a luxurious (by world historical measures) standard of living?
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. These ARE the good old days.
I’ve gained a much keener appreciation for all the fine foods we have at our dsiposal, and marvel at how many nations, how much transit, how many hands are involved in keeping us so well fed, yes.
Can’t help but wonder at the seeming vulnerability of it all, to the point that I’m actually comforted and even moved by the sight of local farming on any scale. I want to be where the farms are, it’s such a relief to return when I’ve been traveling to large urban areas.
Maybe it’s due to fondness for my upbringing in a semirural agricultural area welling up as a result of the constant lowgrade stress, but it’s sort of primal, too. No big cities, be close to the land.
Didn’t always feel this way, not at all.
How’s your boat these days?