Like We Used To

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• August 16, 2025

Maybe it’s the quintessential sign of getting old that you think times were better in the past than how they are now, or how they will be in the future. As a society, we all lie to ourselves and tell each other that close to fifty is middle age. When we all know for damn well sure most of us won’t make it to 100. So, at 36, I’m pretty certain I’m middle aged. Smack in the middle of my youthful past and the inevitable wrinkled skin of the future, my own death doesn’t haunt me as much as the deaths of others, or the suffering of disease.

Be cautious of those who say youth is wasted on the young. More than not, they are talking about themselves with bitter regret of not taking chances. Be even more weary around people who say they have no regrets. Lying to you wouldn’t be so bad, but lying to oneself is planting the seed of a flower you’re a allergic to, and will grow to poison you, not all at once, but slowly and surely. I have more than one regret I’ve buried deep in a garden, and I won’t tell you where these moments died, but I won’t deny their existence. Other regrets, I’ll boast about in stories laced with humor, like fucked up badges of honor, knowing that every mistake I’ve ever made makes me more relatable, more human, and more sympathetic than all my accomplishments combined.

Two and half months after breaking my foot in Italy, I’m almost back to full capacity. I keep my runs to a short two miles, not trying to overdue it. Summertime is Astoria Park’s most active season. Families bring their kids to the playgrounds and pool. Teenagers come to not so subtly experiment with alcohol and weed. Lovers come to hold and kiss each other at sunset. Friends gather for picnics and pick up games of basketball.

It bothered me, on a recent run, to pass this couple in beach chairs watching the sunset. Because they weren’t watching the sunset at all. They were both scrolling through their phones, ignoring natures colored painted sky, and worse, ignoring each other. Bored at looking into the intricacies of the other’s eyes and bored of birds chirping in the trees, they resorted to whatever bullshit is happening on the screen instead of what’s in front of them.

Is that, I feared, what most relationships turn into in time? A numbness to color, a deafness to sound? Do we just meet in a lustful ephemeral and fade into background actors of our so called significant others? And has it always been this way? Or has the phone, our window to distraction, to information, to misinformation, to places we’d rather be, or people we’d rather kiss, sped up the cycle of burning out the flames of love faster than ever before. Being lonely alone, in my experience, doesn’t quite sting like being lonely with another. At least being alone has freedom and, sometimes, peace. The only couples you’ll find holding hands at sunset, are the couples very much new in love, and the very old couples, treasuring every day knowing that a tomorrow one of them could be standing there alone.

It makes me wonder, does that couple stuck in the middle notice the new couples canoodling each other and think, “look at how affectionate they are, like we used to.” And does the old couple notice the couple now void of intimacy think, “look at how lost they are missing out on the present moment, like we used to. Gosh, youth is wasted on the young.”

When I was in college, I wrote a paper comparing humans to a virus. My professor for that class was one of these asshole professors who said he rarely gave out A’s, but I managed to impress him enough to keep my perfect 4.0 GPA. Though still a cynic, as I get older, I’ve softened enough to not let things bother me like they used to. I no longer think humanity is a virus to planet Earth. It’s pretty clear to me now that we are far more like bacteria. Because, there is a balance of good and bad bacteria, not just in the world, but literally in our stomachs (and for us ladies, in our vaginas!). And I think all people, regardless of gender, race, religion, age, has capacity for good and bad. For good or bad bacteria to thrive, requires certain environments. And, I think, people pay too much mind to the toxic things on the internet. Hell, I fall into that trap all the time! Though I’d love to challenge the world to post three positive comments or posts for every time they give into an internet troll, I’m well aware the only change I can make in the world are my doings. And if I want us all to go back to like we used to be, when people weren’t so quick to dismiss each other over petty differences, I have to first be that person.

One of my favorite things in the world to do is go to rock and roll concerts. Yes, I usually snap a few pictures of the band, but I get so annoyed at people who just stand there and record, watching the whole concert through their screen instead of experiencing the moment. But I cannot convince these types of people to be here now, like we used to, before. Only I can blot out the world and dance. I love going to the movies. And I don’t want that to be a thing of the past… so I go to theaters. I vote for things I want to exist in the future by paying for them now. I frequent restaurants I don’t want to close in the ever growing difficulties that is owning a small business in this country. One day, there may only be chain restaurants. Yes, I piggyback off of some people’s streaming services. But I pay for some of my own, and watch TV shows that I want more seasons of. In this way, I vote for what entertainment lives with my time.

Bones break, and when you’re hobbling along, you watch people walk effortlessly thinking, “they walk just like I used to.” Even the healthiest of people get cancers, sometimes they don’t win. And just like that, there’s no more calling that person like you used to. Kids grow up very quickly. They go from snuggling you, to teenagers with attitudes, and one day, you’ll miss their wide grin like they used to when you came through the door. Someday, your skin will sag, and you’ll probably get a little fat, and you’ll look in the mirror and wish you looked like you used to. When your parents die, no one will send you birthday cards anymore, because people just don’t do that anymore, not like they used to.

The tragedy lies not in what becomes what we used to enjoy, or what we used to be, either as individuals or relationships, be them romantic, friendships or family, but rather that we let them slip right by us and appreciate them more as an afterthought. Everything fades or changes, and eventually ends. We may not be able to turn back the clocks to how things used to be, but we don’t have to become numb and detached. We can take the best parts of our old selves be like we used to. You just have to try.