Remember the days when you used to go to the local outdoor market to buy fresh baked goods, flowers and honey, and not to drag 120 “STOP THE WIND TURBINE” signs from the trunk of your car in hopes of educating the visitors.
Remember the days when you went to a council meeting because your neighbour two farms down wanted to sever a lot and build their parents a home, but not to beg the council to uncover some hidden ancient by-law to protect the sanctity of your health and home from swarming developers.
Remember when you could contact your health department with a concern and they would do everything in their power to help you, whatever it took, and they did not dismiss, insult and deny you with an issue serious enough that forced you to leave your home.
Remember when you used to get together once a year with your neighbours at the local town hall to have potluck just to catch up, not to line up at microphones wondering how you were going to protect each other?
Remember when children and the elderly were protected and cherished as those who may be considered at a disadvantage or needed extra loving care, not some extras in the household with “collateral damage” signs hanging from their necks.
Remember when someone asked what your favourite thing is and you said just going home, having a drink on the deck and forgetting my cares for the day, instead of locking the windows and doors up tight to block out the invasion and running away when you have to.
Remember when you used to go to family weddings and birthdays and could get lost in the excitement celebrating with everyone else, not sitting glumly in a corner with no recall of how to carry on a conversation that wasn’t slamming the government or railing against developers.
Remember the friends that used to come and visit once in a while, for some good conversation and a bite to eat, who now don’t come near you because you have been taken into the netherworld and you can’t get out.
Remember when you used to get in the car and drive for miles in anticipation of a great trip to a new unknown, and not driving for miles because you have to try to convince someone you’re having a big problem and you need them to listen.
Remember when you could come home, respond to your emails in 10 minutes and carry on with your family, and not sit in front of your computer researching, preparing and communicating until 12 AM and rising at 6 to start all over again.
Remember your Dad, pointing out the bird species and flora so you could recognize it when they graced your home, and not staring into the back yard and wondering where all the birds went and are they safe?
Remember the sounds on a warm summer night?