I’ve had a lurking, sick feeling that every milestone, birthday, family event and holiday needs to be celebrated as if it were the last we’ll be able to celebrate for a long time, for going on four years.
I’m either getting “the boy who cried wolf” syndrome or have just become acclimated to living in a depression, and the looming collapse of yet another institution or country is starting to seem normal.
Dangerous, I know. If you had asked me in 2008 if I’d be battling complacency on the eve of 2012 given all that has transpired since, I’d have thought you were crazy.
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.