The Land That Made Me, Me

We danced to “Little Darlin'” and sang to “Stagger Lee”
And cried for Buddy Holly in the Land That Made Me, Me.

And Reagan was a Democrat whose co-star was a chimp

 We had our share of heroes, we never thought they’d go, 
At least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe.

For youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be,

And Elvis was forever in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We’d never seen the rock band that was grateful to be Dead,
And airplanes weren’t named Jefferson, and Zeppelins were not Led.

Beatles lived in gardens then, and Monkeys lived in trees,
Madonna was a virgin in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We hadn’t seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.

Hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea,
Rocket Ships were fiction in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Buicks came with portholes, and side shows came with freaks,
Bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks.

Coke came just in bottles, and skirts below the knee,
And Castro came to power, in the Land That made Me, Me.

We had no Crest with fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,
We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea.

There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill,
And fish were not called Wanda, and cats were not called Bill.

Middle age was 35 and old was forty-three,
And accidents were our parents, in the land That Made Me, Me.

But all things have a season, or so we’ve heard them say,
And now instead of  Maybelline we swear by Retin-A.

They send us invitations to join AARP,
We’ve come a long way, baby, from the Land That Made Me, Me.

And we tell our children’s children of the way it used to be,
Long ago and far away in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Editor’s Note:  Skip Granger included this poem, origin unknown, in a recent email.  It reflects some of the differences we’ve seen in our lives.