THERE ARE CERTAIN THINGS I WILL ALWAYS PREFER: Tea instead of coffee, and floors that creak instead of those with a plastic gloss, for example. I don't mind chipped china or that my heirloom linens have ink splotches on them from...
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THERE ARE CERTAIN THINGS I WILL ALWAYS PREFER: Tea instead of coffee, and floors that creak instead of those with a plastic gloss, for example. I don't mind chipped china or that my heirloom linens have ink splotches on them from scribbling down all those "Oh yes!" ideas, which always seem to come at 3:00 in the morning. I used to store my Mason Pearson hairbrush, which I've had since college, on a shelf below my sink before leaving it on the sun-dappled window sill became more convenient. I prefer a motley of handpicked flowers from the garden rather than a pitcher-perfect display from a florist with a book deal and celebrity client list. I love the way light sparkles from Austrian cut crystal, and I am far happier reading in a puff of pillows and quilts rather than watching a big screen television situated in a room built especially for a big screen television. In the mornings I sometimes giggle secretly as the man leaving the modern house next door becomes frustrated when his remote controlled door doesn’t close properly. We have arms for this sort of thing. In my lifetime I have noticed that our country is always in such a hurry, racing to whatever is new. Build it, tear it down. Buy it, throw it out. (I am still annoyed with the city of New York for demolishing the original Penn Station.) At just over 200 years old, our country is brand spanking new, but even a new country can claim traditions as its own. I remember the first call of the Good Humor truck just as the school year ended, which meant so much more than a signal for ice cream—it represented the excitement of a new season. I no longer hear the Good Humor truck; perhaps they were replaced by those Good Humor bars available in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store. Like my thoughts about the boy I let slip away, when nostalgia hits, I take comfort in the customs of England. While the world is constantly changing, England is respectful of the past—preserving older, glorious buildings; a place where antiques are in abundance—and though Double Decker buses may not grace as many streets for ecological reasons, you can still buy cheese at a cheese shop just across the road from the vendor who only sells chocolate. Sometimes when you grow up too fast, you miss the innocent splendors that can't be replaced.
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