Echoes of Memory: Nostalgia, Myth, and the Stories We Tell

Midday/Early Afternoon, Monday, June 2, 2025, Miami, Florida

Earlier this morning, I came across a charming Facebook post from an old friend from my Amazon reviewing days. She’s a bit older than I am—by about a decade—and enjoying her retirement, sharing delightful glimpses into her daily life in rural Midwest America. Her posts often feel like miniature memoirs, filled with reflections on the profound changes she’s witnessed over the years.

This particular post, however, was less a memoir and more a whimsical collection—an endearing list of things she refuses to do (like use smartphones, which she loathes) paired with snapshots of life from her past, including:

• The dim/bright switch on cars being on the floor.
• Knowing who Wallace Beery was (for reference: Noah Beery, who played Jim Rockford’s father on The Rockford Files, was Wallace Beery’s son).
• Eating hamburgers in every possible form because ground beef once cost 29 cents a pound.
• Paying $50 a month for rent—not for a hovel, but a spacious first-floor home in a big old farmhouse.
• Using pay phones when they cost a dime.
• Walking to school and never fearing abduction.
• Watching airplanes pass overhead and marveling at the rare sight of a Flying Boxcar.
• Remembering the last year passenger trains traveled through New Milford, CT.
• Mastering the lost art of reading and writing in cursive.

Her words struck a chord. Though I’m younger and grew up outside New England, many of her memories resonated with me. I, too, remember pay phones—though by my time in Miami, they cost a quarter instead of a dime. Mimeographed papers were familiar, though primarily in school rather than at home. And walking to school, while uncommon, was part of my life for a short time before transferring from Coral Park Elementary to Tropical Elementary in 1972.

Perhaps most vividly, I recall gazing at planes overhead—not because they were rare but because they held a deeper meaning for me. My late father was an aviator, and watching aircraft was my own quiet way of feeling close to him.

Reading her list was like stepping into a time capsule—one filled with markers of a rapidly changing world, reminders of simpler days, and proof that memory binds us across generations. It nudged me to appreciate the significance of the small details that shape our personal histories.

But then I reached the 14th item on her list, and the tone shifted.

I remember the “moment of silence” at the beginning of the school day (for prayers, if you wanted to) and also the daily recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. Pretty sure they don’t do that anymore.

This statement caught my attention—not because of nostalgia, but because it echoed a claim I’ve seen frequently online. The notion that American schools no longer recite the Pledge of Allegiance is a common refrain among conservative circles, particularly the MAGA crowd. My friend, though not a staunch Trump supporter, worked as a civilian employee for a police department—an environment where right-leaning views are more prevalent. While she’s generally a fair-minded centrist, it’s not surprising that some conservative talking points have filtered into her worldview.

I’ve seen this claim flood social media—often accompanied by old illustrations of clean-cut, reverent children standing around a flag, reciting the Pledge as their teacher (always white, usually a kindly brunette or blonde) looks on. Captions like Do you remember when schools still did this? attempt to stir longing for a vanished tradition.

Having attended Dade County Public Schools for a decade—from 1972 to 1983—I knew from personal experience that the Pledge of Allegiance was very much a part of the school day. In elementary school, we even sang the National Anthem. But was the tradition truly gone?

Some time ago, while living on the west coast of Florida, I saw another iteration of the Schools don’t do the Pledge anymore! post shared by a high school acquaintance—a vocal Trump supporter. Curious, I turned to “Sandy,” a bright young woman who had recently graduated from a Tampa-area high school.

Me: Is it true that students don’t recite the Pledge of Allegiance in public schools anymore?
Sandy: (laughs) Of course we still do that, Alex! It’s mandatory unless you have a religious exemption.

Her reply was both reassuring and illuminating.

This misinformation—like much political propaganda—spreads fast, shaping perceptions even when it contradicts reality. It’s a reminder of how easily nostalgia can be manipulated, how simple traditions can be twisted into symbols of supposed cultural decline. And it’s why critical thinking matters—not just in politics, but in how we engage with the past and present.

Because memory is precious. But truth? Truth is essential.