In my day we didn’t spend a lot of money on medications to cure depression. We didn’t have Zoloft or Paxil. If we complained my mom pushed us outside and told us to get back on the horse. What she meant was, get over it. Never did find that damn horse.
If we started to whine, she would pour herself a glass of red and say, “You kids are driving me to drink. Don’t you listen to Bing Crosby? You know, “You gotta Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the positive. Eliminate the negative. Latch on to the affirmative and don’t mess with Mr. In-Between. And, don’t get in his car either.”
We didn’t hospitalize people with depression. If someone in the family was acting funny, we locked them in the attic and we waved to them when we backed out of the driveway. And sometimes they even waved back and my mom would say, “See I told you. He’s fine.” We didn’t go to psychiatrists either. No one in his right mind would pay some stranger good money just to complain. We just talked out our troubles to our friends and if they didn’t listen, we talked to strangers.
Now don’t get me wrong, depression is really serious. But if you need a fast cure, get a horse.