I have been watching YouTube to save my sanity. I can watch something that’s far from the prevailing news and commentary, as well as sitcoms trying to repeat what was funny when my sons were small.
There are areas where I can view hundreds of old “historic” photographs and I have to laugh. How is Marilyn Monroe part of our history? I’m sure lots of men think she is. In fact, they have posters on their walls showing her in all her “glory.”
Seeing photos of her and other “bombshells” like Jayne Mansfield and the pin-up girls from World War II have helped me understand the mindset of the men who didn’t know if they would return home from the “war to end all wars.”
I haven’t seen many from World War I, but there are some photos of men wearing gas masks installing the same devices on their mules.
There are a few from Korea, but not many. That is called “the forgotten war,” though it is factually still going on. There is a cease fire, but no peace pact, no armistice, just a few periods of gunfire across the demilitarized zone and “meetings” between the leaders to prove it’s still there.
Perhaps it should be called “the unrecognized war.”
There aren’t many pin-ups from the fellas who fought there. Many of them said they were shipped home with the realization that they would be in Viet Nam soon.
The good thing about YouTube is that there are many choices. One doesn’t need to watch just one theme.
To save my sanity, I have watched segments about a guitar player who is so bad people attend his concerts to throw things at him. He books the gigs and people crowd the venues. Maybe I have a future as a guitarist.
His wife sings and she’s worse than I am. That’s been proven. I drew jeers at karaoke.
I won’t watch the “concert again.” It didn’t help my sanity to realize I may have been in the wrong field for the past 50-odd years.
Right now, I am hooked on segments where people film homes, cabins and mansions that have been abandoned, many with all the inhabitants’ belongings still in place.
I think about the people who left home so rapidly, then I recall the cliff dwellings where food was still in the bowls and where Anasazi beans were found still fertile enough to reproduce.
There’s always hope even if the nightly news leaves my sanity at risk.