These Are The Days

Today I read something Maria Shriver shared that made me think.

She had looked at an old photograph and said, “Those were the days.” Her daughter gently corrected her. “No, Mom. These are the days.”

Those words impacted me as I reflected on how I spent Sunday. I drove to Red Deer for the air show and met my oldest son, Brandon, my nephew Terry, and my two-year-old granddaughter, Addi. I wasn’t feeling particularly well. Between the Alberta heat and the blazing sun, there were moments when I wondered if I was pushing my luck. But there wasn’t a chance I was going to miss it.

There was another emotion quietly sitting in the background that day. I knew this would likely be the last time I would ever watch the Canadian Forces Snowbirds perform. After more than 55 years, they’re nearing the end of an extraordinary chapter in Canadian aviation. I’ve shared my thoughts about that before, and I know it’s a subject that brings out strong opinions. I’m going to leave that conversation aside today because that’s not what this story is about.

But before the Snowbirds flew on the Sunday, the F-18s arrived. The moment those afterburners lit up, I was practically bouncing in my chair.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Terry looking at me with an expression that clearly said, “Has Aunt Nancy finally lost it?”

Honestly... it was a fair question.

I’ve loved aviation for as long as I can remember. After all these years, the sound of jet engines still makes me smile like a little kid. Then I looked over at Addi.

She was pointing excitedly at every airplane that crossed the sky, completely captivated by what she was seeing. I wish I could share the photograph because it perfectly captured that kind of joy. But some moments belong only to family.

It struck me that, despite almost seventy years between us, we were doing exactly the same thing.

Looking up!

She was seeing airplanes with the wonder of someone discovering them for the very first time. I was seeing them through a lifetime of memories. Yet somehow, we had arrived in exactly the same place. Completely present.

I spend a lot of time writing about politics, democracy, climate, and the challenges facing our country and our world. Those conversations matter, and they always will.

But Sunday reminded me that we can’t become so consumed by tomorrow that we forget to live today. Maybe that’s what Maria Shriver’s daughter was trying to say.

It’s easy to look at an old photograph and think, “Those were the days.” The truth is, one day this Sunday will be an old photograph too.

I’ll remember Brandon quietly watching his daughter. I’ll remember Terry wondering whether his aunt had finally gone completely around the bend.

I’ll remember Addi pointing at the sky with absolute delight.

And I’ll remember that for a few hours, none of us was thinking about yesterday or tomorrow. We were simply enjoying the moment we were in.

As I thought about all of this today, another line came to mind. One that many Canadians know well. The late Gord Downie of the Tragically Hip said it perfectly. “No dress rehearsal. This is our life.”

No, It isn’t. These are the days.

So I’m going to keep looking up. I’m going to keep getting ridiculously excited when the afterburners light up. I’m going to keep borrowing a little of the wonder I see in my granddaughter’s eyes.

And if Terry still thinks I’ve completely lost it...

Well... I’m okay with that.