Sometimes I feel like I was born to be a cranky old fart, and I’m just suffering through my youth until I can realize my true self.

So right now, I’m in the middle of forming my 20-year window of the “good old days,” which I can use as a lens to view everything through when I’m finally old.

I’m not the only one who does this. Most of my friends online have their groups they belong to, such as “You know you’re from Maple Valley when…,” which are filled with references to their 20-year windows. Going to the Red Apple, renting videos at Flynn’s, and still arguing over how to pronounce Witte Road (don’t ask me).

The funny thing about our nostalgia is that we’re each convinced that our 20-year window was the greatest 20 years in our local history. Everything just went downhill from there. Kids today don’t even know what they’ve missed, but we’ll tell them about it, and I’m sure they’ll listen with great interest, right?

I wonder what the goat farmer would think if he could see the Fred Meyer and Costco megastores that occupy the fields where he once had to step around piles of goat pellets. Nobody talks about those super-olden days with reverence, and that family was probably happy to get a big check from the developer anyway. Please try to forget that line about the goat pellets when you’re in line for the buck-fifty hot dog.

To me, even our efforts to preserve endangered species is sometimes more nostalgia than ecological idealism. We spend a lot of resources trying to maintain every species that is alive today at its current population, despite the fact that over 99 percent of the life that has ever existed on this planet is already extinct. But, we’ve got to keep those pandas, even to the point of giving them Viagra and showing them videos of other pandas gettin’ it on (they don’t like to breed in captivity).

I’ll admit, though; I’m selfish about the animals I like. The brown pelican is one of my favorites, and its survival depended on federal laws to protect it. So please don’t stop hugging a spotted owl long enough to send me an angry letter; I’m just making observations here.

I think the problems begin when we try too hard to cling to that brief, delusional window of greatness, and try to unnaturally preserve our vision of the way things ought to be.

This isn’t a “we must accept change” column. It’s more of a “let’s look at the greater good for all citizens” kind of thing. It’s easy for us to be selfish about the things we want for our community, and to artificially restrict growth or change if we’re in a position of power to do so. We either don’t realize or won’t admit that our personal biases overshadow what’s really best for everyone.

That’s why I really admire Covington’s City Council, since they didn’t do that. At a recent meeting where a tiny handful of residents gave the councilors an earful on the new town center development, Covington’s mayor gave a thoughtful speech about choosing the best option for all of their citizens. I’m not an insider, but it didn’t sound like there were any personal agendas at work there.

Refreshing, yes, but it’s not going to help me realize my full potential of being a crotchety old man. You’ll know it when I finally get there; I’m gonna hike up my pants to my armpits, carry a cane just so I can hit stuff with it, and will never use the accelerator on my car. I’m gonna use Rogaine in my ears and on my eyebrows to really grow the hair out, and when people mention that they’ve been to Maple Valley, they’ll ask, “Did you ever run into Old Man Ryals while you were out there? What an old fart that guy is.”

Now all I need is something to complain about.