Revisionist Memory — Rewriting The Good Ol’ Days
Memory as Myth
By: The Lace Ledger Staff
Memory rarely tells the truth. It isn’t a neutral archive; it’s an artist, reshaping scenes to fit the narrative we need. What was once unbearable becomes romantic. What was once a struggle transforms into grit.
This is revisionist memory — not a lie, but a re-vision, an alchemy that makes the past more beautiful in hindsight than it ever was at the time.
The Good Ol’ Days
By Amanda Albert
In memory’s glass the past is poured,
To age, dark and slow,
Where unseen alchemies are stored,
And hidden changes grow.
The bitter years now smooth as fine wine,
Their tannins bled away,
What once was harsh, now feels divine,
The struggles that shaped the day.
A bachelor apartment, cupboards bare,
With early trains that stole the dawn,
The college years of trial and wear
Left little rest, yet carried on.
The hardships struck with heavy hand,
Each challenge fierce and clear,
But memory distills what stands—
A strength that persevered.
For laughter threads the hardest years,
Adventure lit the way,
And friendships forged through trial and tears
Endure, a rare bouquet.
The good ’ol days are never gone,
They circle where we stand,
What feels like night will soon be dawn,
A gift the years have planned.
So raise a glass to present strife,
To moments hard and plain,
They too will ripen into life—
A treasured vintage will remain.
One of the reasons the past feels sweeter in hindsight is because we are no longer starving inside it. We are feasting now on the bounty of our struggle. The sweat, the sleeplessness, the cupboards left bare — all of it forged resilience. What was once hunger has become harvest. The hustle, the grit, the perseverance: these are the vintage notes distilled from suffering. Revisionist memory is not forgetting the pain, but savoring the strength it created.
To rewrite memory is not to betray it. It is to survive it. When we look back and see laughter among the tears, or strength beneath the strain, we are re-visioning life in a way that honours endurance. Nostalgia is not weakness — it is a survival instinct that lets us carry on, layering sweetness over scars.
Try this: choose a memory from your own past that felt brutal at the time. Write it as you remember it, then rewrite it as your heart wanted it to be. Notice what emerges — the laughter, the lesson, the threads of resilience you couldn’t see then. Like fine wine, memory ages. It softens the tannins and sharpens the bouquet.
Revisionist memory is a gift — it transforms hardship into harvest, pain into poetry, grit into legacy. When today feels impossible, remember: in time, even this moment will ripen into a story worth savoring. You can do hard things.
What memories in your life deserve revision? Share your own “good ol’ days” with us.
