Shake it. Shake it. Shake it. Shake it like a Polaroid picture.
These are lyrics from an up-tempo hit song called Hey Ya — which was released by the Hip-Hop duo Outkast. If you’ve been to a party in recent years, this song was likely on the playlist.
The song was recorded in 2002. Which means it’s not all that old, but it’s not exactly hot off the presses either.
And while the tune remains distinctive, signs of its age are evident.
There are some lines that name-drop figures that remain relevant today (Beyonce), and others that don’t (Lucy Liu).
And then there’s that reference to Polaroid pictures. A reference that’s starting to wilt against the weight of time.
Why? Consider this.
There are many several high school students across America who weren’t even born when Hey Ya first hit the airwaves. Teenagers who don’t even know what a Polaroid picture is.
In a few short years, these high schoolers will be the young adults at the parties where Hey Ya is played. And they won’t understand what Outkast is talking about.
A musical masterpiece will fade into mediocrity. All because the perspective will have shifted.
And that, in no small way, is tragic.
Hey Ya is not the only entertainment staple to age poorly. Far from it.
Many songs feature over-the-hill cultural references. Many TV shows have dated set decorations and graphics. And many movies feature “cutting-edge” features that have become a punch line in the years after their cinematic releases.
When we encounter these works of art today, we’re ensconced by nostalgia. The memories come flooding back, and our hearts gush as we reminisce.
Yet, there’s a bittersweet side to all the warm fuzzies.
For we know that there are others who won’t ever have a chance to see the world as we once did. To truly participate in the trips down memory lane these pieces of entertainment provide us.
There’s a connection that’s missing — one that has drifted out of sight behind us. These entertainment relics and our own memories are the only bridges connecting us to them.
Sometimes that connection is more style than substance. Polaroid pictures were one a nice gimmick — glossy photos that developed in real-time — but digital photography quickly proved them obsolete.
Other times, the connection is more substantial. Payphones might seem ludicrous to anyone under the age of 25 these days, but they were once an important part of life to everyone else. In an era before everyone had a supercomputer in their pocket, payphones were critical for making plans on the go.
As time moves on and new tools emerge, these erstwhile staples of life get lost. And the cultural remnants capsize with them.
For the perspective has shifted. The new reality is all that’s relevant now.
Reference points mean everything.
Four years ago this week, I launched Words of the West with a confession. One that read I am not perfect.
That statement is as true today as it was then. But I wonder how much else from those early days is still valid.
The world has changed a lot in four years — becoming ever more complicated, divisive and cynical.
And I have grown a lot in four years — pushing my own boundaries and using my voice ever more boldly.
With all this growth and change, today’s reference points are a far cry from those of four years ago.
And while I’ve tried to make each and every one of these articles stand up to the test of time, I know that some simply cannot.
For what they refer to is dated. And their relevance has faded.
This bothers me.
I don’t want to my words to become mothballed relics. To be as irrelevant as Rand McNally atlases in the age of connected cars.
No, I want my words to remain resonant. I want my messages to help and inspire others.
That is why I’ve committed to sharing a fresh article each and every week for four straight years. And that why I plan on sharing articles for years to come.
Misplaced references represent missed opportunities for me to achieve these objectives. And while missed opportunities are inevitable in life, it doesn’t make them any more welcome.
And so, against my better judgment, I rue lost opportunities.
But should I?
There’s not a day goes by I don’t feel regret. Not because I’m in here, because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try to talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can’t. That kid’s long gone, and this old man is all that’s left.
This soliloquy comes from the 1994 movie The Shawshank Redemption. And even though that movie is eight years older than the song Hey Ya, this passage stands a better chance of passing the test of time.
Why is that?
It’s not because we inherently relate to the character who uttered it — Red Redding. After all, it’s unlikely that any of us have found ourselves in a parole hearing after spending 40 years in prison for murder.
No, we relate to this passage because of its mention of shifting reference points.
Red is candid about how time alone has changed him. He steadfastly admits that the man he is after four decades behind bars is not the one he was when he committed a heinous crime. But he also acknowledges there is no real link between those two moments he can traverse.
There is no silver lining. Just the cold, hard truth.
This moment resonates with me. For I see my own plight just as clearly as Red saw his.
With each day, new opportunity dawns. But old references fade further into irrelevance.
Past words lack meaning. Faded memories lack context. And old messages become as obsolete as the payphone or the Polaroid.
There is nothing I can do to stem the tide of change. I can only keep charging ahead, knowing that tomorrow will bring the promise of a bright, new reality.
Reference points are merely guideposts reminding me of where I’ve been. Reminding me of how far I’ve come.
Perhaps, in this light, the faded references from Hey Ya won’t seem so sinister. And the obsolescence of yesterday’s lessons won’t seem so stark.
Our future is bright. But our past doesn’t need to be forgotten.
So, let us not lose our reference points. They’re more useful than we might think.