🥾 “When I Was Your Age, I Had to Walk Uphill Both Ways…”

Quote: “…and I actually remember it differently every time I tell it.”

You know you’ve crossed into official “legend status” when your childhood stories start sounding like scenes from a survival documentary. One minute you’re trudging to school through ankle-deep snow — the next, it’s waist-deep and there are wolves. Memory inflation: it’s real, it’s hilarious, and it’s a rite of senior passage.

The Curious Case of the Ever-Steepening Hill

When I was a kid, I do remember walking to school. It was cold. It was long. It was uphill.

Or… was it?

The last time I told the story to my granddaughter Liliana, I said it was uphill both ways. I even threw in “barefoot in the snow,” which I’m pretty sure was creative license because A) we lived in Tallahassee, and B) my mom was not about to let me walk barefoot anywhere. But in the moment, it felt true. Because memory, my friends, is not a hard drive — it’s more like a chalkboard we doodle on, erase, and redraw each time we recall something.

And let’s face it — our stories get a lot more interesting with a touch of exaggeration. Or as I like to call it: retirement-level storytelling.

Why Do the Hills Get Steeper?

It’s not just nostalgia. It’s neuroscience. As we age, our brains tend to highlight emotions over exact details. So while the physical hill may have been mild, the memory of effort — being cold, tired, probably hangry — amplifies the experience.

Also: grandkids are dramatic. You say, “We walked to school,” and they stare at you like you invented fire. So naturally, we add a wolf. For effect.

Real Talk: The “Inflation” of Memory Isn’t Lying — It’s Art

Think about it:

📚 First telling: “I walked to school.”
📚 Fifth telling: “It was uphill both ways.”
📚 Tenth telling: “And I carried my little brother, a backpack full of encyclopedias, and half a piano.”

Each version is a loving nod to who we were — and who we’ve become. Memory inflation isn’t deceitful. It’s color commentary on the black-and-white footage of our past.

Fictional Tales Inspired by True (Tired) Feet

Let me introduce you to my imaginary friend group from the 1960s:

• Earl: swears he once outran a bobcat to get to the bus stop.
• Diane: walked through a thunderstorm while carrying two paper bags full of library books — and still returned them on time.
• Calvin: insists he “invented grit” when he had to push his bike up a gravel road because the chain broke. Every time he tells it, the gravel gets sharper and the bike gets heavier.

I adore these people. Because exaggeration is storytelling with seasoning.

 Let’s Keep the Tradition Alive

Our parents had stories of blizzards and five-cent milk. We have tales of dodgy dial-up internet and walking through fields without cell phones. Your grandkids may never face your “steep hills,” but they’ll remember how you told the story.

And maybe — just maybe — one day they’ll say, “Back in my day, I had to walk all the way across the house to find the remote.” And you’ll laugh, knowingly, because you remember when remotes had cords.

Call to Action:

💬 What’s the most hilariously exaggerated childhood story you’ve told (or heard)? Share it in the comments, and let’s build the greatest fictional hill ever climbed!

🧓🏼➡️ Don’t forget to subscribe to Senior Moments Unplugged. Twice-weekly posts filled with wit, warmth, and a wink — because aging doesn’t mean slowing down; it means turning up the volume on the stories that matter.