“Do
not
say,
‘Why
is
it
that
the
former
days
were
better
than
these?’
For
it
is not from wisdom that you ask about this” (Ecclesiastes 7:10).
Nostalgia
It
is
a
trait
of
human
nature,
not
just
to
be
able
to
remember
the
past,
but
seemingly
to
relish
and
love
doing
so.
People
cherish
sentimental
objects
from
long
ago,
they
preserve
love
letters
and
other
such
tokens
of
their
personal
history,
they
pore
over
the
mementos
of
their
youth,
they
visit
and
adorn
the
graves
of
their
loved
ones,
they
reminisce
over
old
photographs,
and
in
innumerable
other
ways
yearn
for
yore,
as
if
seeking
to
restore
and
relive
it,
pausing
to
muse
on
these
reminders
of
what
once
was
—
and, perhaps, over what was to be but never was.
While
some
are
more
wistful
than
others,
everyone
indulges
nostalgia.
This
is
strange,
if
not
surprising,
considering
that
it
is
bittersweet.
In
fact,
“nostalgia”
comes
from
two
Greek
words
(nostos,
“homecoming,”
and
algos,
“pain”)
which
were
combined
“around
the
time
of
the
American
Revolution
as
a
medical
term
for
melancholia
caused
by
homesickness”
(
Family
Word
Finder
,
pg.
540).
Perhaps
this
is
nowhere
more
evident
than
in
reunions
of
military
veterans
who
gather
to
remember
wartime
experiences.
They
do
this
though
much
of
what
they
recall
hurts.
Looking
at
photographs
of
deceased
loved
ones
might
be
pleasant,
but
the
memories
they
evoke
still
bear
an
underlying
ache
from the consciousness that they are gone beyond reach.
It
is
hard
to
say
that
something
so
natural,
so
much
an
instinctual,
even
unique,
part
of
the
human
psyche
could
be
wrong
or
bad.
Indeed,
it
can
be
very
detrimental
not
to
remember
the
past.
All
learning
requires
it.
Even
the
moral
component
in
remembering
the
past
is
evoked
by
the
aphorism
of
the
philosopher,
George
Santayana,
who said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
It
is
not
difficult
to
discern
the
drive
behind
nostalgia.
It
is
a
reversion
to
the
past.
None
can
relive
it,
but
one
can
approach
it
by
vividly
remembering
it,
aided
by
its
physical
remnants.
Thus,
when
a
man
lingers
and
muses
over
a
childhood
photograph
of
himself,
for
a
brief
moment,
he
is
able
to
return
in
his
mind
to
a
time
when
the
future,
not
yet
made,
can
again
be
contemplated
with
promise,
hope,
and
optimism
—
when
the
mistakes
to
be
made
are,
not
only
not
yet
made,
but
do
not
have
to
be
made
—
to
a
time
when
things
could
be
so
much
better
than
they
might
have
turned
out
to
be.
He
can
go
back
to
a
place
where
life
was
young
and
fresh
and
vistas
of
opportunity
opened
before
him.
Perhaps
no
one
captures
this
better
than
William
Faulkner
in
his
Intruder
in
the
Dust
,
when
he
describes
how
the
moment
just
before
Confederate
general
George
Pickett’s
disastrous
charge
at
Gettysburg
is
conceived:
“For
every
Southern
boy
fourteen
years
old,
not
once
but
whenever
he
wants
it,
there
is
the
instant
when
it’s
still
not
yet
two
o’clock
on
that
July
afternoon
in
1863
…
.
It’s
all
in
the
balance,
it
hasn’t
happened
yet,
it
hasn’t
even
begun
yet,
it
not
only
hasn’t
begun
yet
but
there
is
still
time
for
it
not
to
begin
…
.”
These
words
apply
to
every
sad
or
tragic
event
in
life.
The
artifacts
of
the
past
can
transport
one
back
to
a
time
when
the
mind
can
entertain
the
fantasy
that
what
happened need not happen.
Time
cannot
be
recaptured
nor
history
retrieved
and
changed.
Yet,
mistakes
do
not
have
to
be
repeated.
Indeed,
going
forward,
they
can
be
cancelled
out.
The
past
can
be
made
a
springboard
to
a
future
better
than
the
past
itself.
Paul’s
assertion
that
he
forgot
what
lay
behind
(Phil.
3:13,14)
seems
strange
in
view
of
the
fact
that
he
so
often
recalled it (cf. vss. 5,6). Yet, he forgot it in that he did not allow it to control his
future.
Nostalgia
must
be
something
more
than
an
empty,
self-indulgent,
stultifying
wallowing
in
melancholia.
Instead,
the
past
must
be
allowed
to
teach
and
reach
toward a better future.
Copyright © 2017 - current year, Gary P. and Leslie G. Eubanks. All Rights Reserved.