By Lyzz Repa
Growing up I must have heard “Back in my days” or “when I was growing up” at least three times a week. If it wasn’t my mother it was some random lady to a child. It was said so often that at times you could sense it coming and say it before a single word could be muttered. But the truth is, no matter how many times it was said – it didn’t make any sense whatsoever. Listening to my mom talk about how the train was only a token back when she was a youngster was irrelevant to me.