"Sha-la la-la-la-la Live For Today"**

Well, I have been thinking about this very dilemma. People are suffering from overload and starting to question what is real and what is fabrication by humans and machinery. 

What's the solution? I say we go back to 1970. 

No internet. Three television channels. Landline phones. Gossip through the nosey neighbor who knows everything about everyone, or, the barber.

For entertainment you will dig ditches to China, play baseball outside, ride a bike, think, dream, fantasize, read a book and have block parties with your neighbors.

Of course you'll have to go out and buy your own groceries. You better have a car because there's no Uber. If you order something from a catalog 

be prepared to wait Temu weeks to receive it. Bills will have to be paid by snail mail. No more direct deposit so your bank teller and you will be on a first name basis. Newspapers will be big and receiving one will be spotty due to the fact a twelve year old is delivering them on his rusty one gear bike with a flat tire. 

You won't know where your kids are at, bad for you, awesome for them. 

Maps! I love maps, but many people have trouble finding Minoqua on a map. You may find yourself getting lost quite a bit. 

Your friend, Bob, might inform you the plague is back and people are dropping like flies. You will have no way to verify this scary scenario and just hope it's far away, if true. 

I do recall the 70's. I was there. We had a crooked president. We were in a war. The soldiers came home to silence and drug addictions. Women were still required to cook, clean, raise children, work, earning far less than the male. Men were told to keep their feelings bottled up, work hard, harder and never, ever see a doctor. 

So, here's the thing. Take responsibility for your life. Put the phone down. Take a walk. Draw a bird. Use the internet for helpful information like finding a recipe for carbonara florentine. You can become a hermit or you can accept the fact that we cannot go back to 1970. 

*See now, I could never have asked AI to show me life in 1970 in 1970. Look at that adorable outfit. 

**The post title is a song by the Grass Roots, a band I just googled although I played Mr. Tambourine Man a zillion times from the jukebox. If I wanted to know anything about them back then I'd have to beg my mom to drive me to The Jewels, to buy Teenbeat or The Rolling Stone magazine, the big, beautiful one.