Grandma, when were the good ole days?
And why were they called that?
Do you wish that you were back there now,
Instead of where you're at?

She made me stop and wonder,
I knew when I THOUGHT THEY WERE,
But why did we believe that?
I really wasn't sure!

Let's see... yes, life was simpler then,
And we never locked our door,
And we ALL loved our neighbor,
And our paychecks bought much more.

And music... you could understand,
God went WITH us to school,
And surely love would never end,
We were taught the Golden Rule!

No recreational drugs for us,
Cherry cokes were our worst vice,
To the carnival in souped-up cars,
Stuffed animals, fur dice.

An innocence and lust for life,
For those in charge ... respect,
A sense of responsibility,
Yet playfulness interject.

Our "bars" were soda fountains,
Watched "The Beaver", one and all,
And talked for hours on the telephone,
With our feet up on the wall.

You know, in now reflecting,
Is it really "the days" we miss?
Or the loss of FEARLESS innocence,
And untroubled childhood bliss?

The feeling of togetherness,
Where right and wrong was taught,
Where freedom of prayer meant "the right TO"
Instead of "the right to NOT"

But don't I see that now in you?
And if I teach you well,
You too, will speak of "The Good Old Days"
And the stories Gram would tell.

You ask if those were good old days,
And why we called them that,
Do I wish that I were back there now,
Instead of where I'm at?

Honey, my youth held good days,
But it held some bad ones too,
And I wouldn't trade ten-years-of-then,
For my loving days with you.

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