I Miss Mayberry

Andy Griffith died this week, and I fear all hope of a simpler life anytime soon may have died with him. 

My great grandmother lived in a tiny town in Texas. I remember going there with my brother and riding our bikes down a dirt road to the only gas station for miles. We could buy a bottle of Coke for a quarter from a machine that opened like a fridge. They even had gas pumps with a crank. It was a town frozen in time, and it offered me a bike ride that I wish I could take again.

But I can’t.

That tiny Texas town, and Mayberry, represented a simpler time. Children were still expected to say “Ma’am” and “Sir.” The sheriff didn’t have to carry a gun. The front porch was a place of neighborhood gatherings. And morals ran rampant in society. Just like the show, life was black and white. Good and evil had clear lines, as did behavior.

There was no Internet. No satellite television. Kids respected their elders (or else). No video games to eat up precious moments of life. Opie carried a fishing pole around to occupy his time. Playing outside was a privilege, not a punishment. As I attempt to raise three children in a totally rebooted society, I miss Mayberry. I miss the feel of that dry texas heat hitting me in the face as I pedaled my heart out to get that bottle of Coke. I miss the simple life.

Today, society scares the snot out of me. My children could be exposed to awful, filthy, hideous images and content at the click of a button, anywhere, anytime. Content that could affect their mental and spiritual development forever exists in unfathomable amounts at the tips of their fingers.

If my kids misbehave in public and I dare to correct them, I could be reported to child social services, and prosecuted. When I misbehaved in public, Mom spanked me. And the guy behind her in line offered his belt to help in the process.

It’s a different world from Mayberry—a scarier world. But we’re doing our best to make life as simple as possible, with clear lines, rules, objectives, and morals. In the end, maybe we can regain just a little piece of that simpler time. Maybe… hopefully.

My kids will grow up in a world void of Andy Griffith, but that doesn’t mean some things can’t still be black and white.

Like this? Read this one, too:
What’s My Line? the loss of personal convictions
Turn Off The Screen, Turn On The Love
The Dangers of Knowledge

So, share… what are you doing to keep things black and white in your home?

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