It's a Tragically Different World Today

Google Images: Amazon.com (2014)

Chet and I just finished watching the film No Country for Old Men, starring Tommy Lee Jones, Josh Brolin, and Javier Bardem, for the third time. And, no, we did not watch it three times back to back. This was the third time we’d seen it since it was released on DVD; and trust me when I say that it’s a film worth seeing more than once. In fact, if I live long enough, I fully intend to see it again.

No Country for Old Men: A See-Again Movie

No Country for Old Men (2007) is a chilling and extremely complex tale about a small-town Texas sheriff who encounters a villain unlike any he's ever before encountered. This villain, a cold-hearted methodical killer, is on many levels representative of the world today—a world without pity or remorse. One key line in the movie is when an "old timer" remarks to the sheriff, who is himself an old timer, that he knew this world was in trouble when kids stopped saying "Yes, sir" and "Yes, ma'am." Indeed, the world is in trouble, and that point is brilliantly and evocatively driven home in No Country for Old Men.  

It's a Different World

Although I think about the same topic at other times, it seems that each time I see the movie I find myself thinking about the wretched condition of today’s world and comparing it to the world I knew as a child growing up back in Fairburn, Georgia during the 1950’s. Of course, I don’t guess it’s helped any that I’ve been listening to the CD my brother (Bud) made for me some time back and, in fact, that CD may have contributed to  my current pensive frame of mind.

My brother titled the CD “Bud’s Favorite Country Songs,” and he made it for me to listen to as I drive my gas-guzzling Tundra about on the highways and byways of America. Not that I travel much beyond the environs of Lafayette, which is why my Tundra has less than 7,000 miles on it, and it’s now going on eight-years-old (Yes, that’s true). Anyway, whenever I do climb into my Tundra to go somewhere, for instance, to shop for groceries or to pick up some mulch for my flowerbeds, I invariably pop that CD into the player and listen to a few songs, because as Bud says, “It’s good truck-driving music.”

The first song to come on is by two guys called Big and Rich, whom I wouldn’t know if I met them on the street, but I really like their song. I’m not sure of the title, though, since Bud failed to provide this bit of information; but based upon the lyrics, I imagine the title is “A Different World,” and if it’s not, well, it should be.

In this song, Big and Rich sing about how the times have changed since they were children. For example, they sing about sleeping in cribs covered in lead-based paint; drinking from garden hoses instead of consuming expensive bottled water; not wearing helmets when they were riding bicycles; playing outside with their friends; having televisions with only three channels and no remote; and saying “The Lord’s Prayer” as well as “The Pledge of Allegiance” before class began in school each day. And the refrain goes, “It was a different life when we were boys and girls; but not just a different life; it was a different world.”

Yes, it was a different world, and it’s a world I remember well. It’s also a world I miss, although not for exactly the same reasons as Big and Rich. What I miss is living in a town where everyone knows your name, even the Chief of Police, the bank president, and the mayor. I miss leaving your doors unlocked at night. I miss schools that are safe for both students and teachers, and where the most violent thing that ever occurs is an occasional shoving match before homeroom or between classes. I miss children and teenagers saying, “Yes, sir” and “Yes, ma’am.”

I miss being able to take a Sunday afternoon drive, just for the heck of it, with no real destination in mind; highways on which traffic is not traveling 80 miles an hour or faster; courteous drivers; and not having to be afraid that the person in the next car to pass yours will be suffering from “road rage.” I also miss winding dirt roads and being able to purchase several gallons of gas for a dollar, a Coca Cola for a nickel, and a comic book for a dime. I miss Saturday matinees where you not only get to see the major attraction of the week but also several real cartoons (Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, or Bugs Bunny); the latest serialized adventure of Buck Rogers; and a newsreel; and you get them all for 25 cents. And speaking of movie theaters, I miss films that aren’t filled with gratuitous violence, full frontal nudity, and relentless hair-curling profanity.

I also miss not having to overhear cell-phone conversations as people yell at their kids, whine at their spouses or significant others, harangue their employers, or gossip about their friends or neighbors. Moreover, I miss not having to listen to cars vibrate from stereos turned up to “ear-drum-bursting” decibels. In other words, I miss common decency and civility. I miss that and so much more. Yet, if I kept going, I would be typing all night and probably into tomorrow. So, I guess I’ll stop for now. Enough said. It’s a different world. It’s no country for old men—or old women—and I don't like it. I miss the world I used to know.