I love retro culture. I love retro games; I love retro music.

Hear the words of Finn Wolfhard, who confessed with joy: “I love retro culture. I love retro games; I love retro music.” In these words lies a truth older than time—that the heart of man is not bound only to the present, but yearns to look back, to touch the treasures of yesterday, and to carry them into the dawn of today. For what is called retro is not mere nostalgia, but a reverence for the beauty, the artistry, and the spirit of those who came before us.

The ancients knew this longing well. They preserved the tales of their forefathers, reciting the epics of Homer and the legends of Gilgamesh, not because they lacked new stories, but because they understood that the wisdom of the past was a fire that must be kept alive. In the same way, retro music and retro games remind us that joy is not bound to the latest invention. There is a timelessness in rhythm, melody, and play that continues to stir the soul, whether born in the present or in decades past.

Consider the enduring story of the Renaissance, when Europe looked back to the glories of ancient Greece and Rome. Artists, architects, and thinkers sought inspiration not only in their own time but in the retro culture of antiquity. From that reverence, they forged new masterpieces—Michelangelo’s David, Brunelleschi’s domes, and the revival of classical philosophy. They did not scorn the old; they cherished it, and by cherishing it, they gave birth to new greatness. So too does Wolfhard’s love of retro reveal the cycle of renewal: the past inspiring the present, the present preserving the past.

There is also humility in such a love. For to delight in retro culture is to admit that innovation is not the only source of wonder. It is to acknowledge that those who came before us, with less technology and fewer resources, still created works of joy and brilliance that endure. Retro games, though simple by modern measure, carried the magic of imagination. Retro music, though unpolished by today’s machines, carried raw truth and soul. To love these things is to honor those who laid the foundations upon which we now build.

Yet Wolfhard’s words also carry a lesson for the restless heart of our age. We live in a time that worships the new, that discards yesterday for the thrill of today. But if we sever ourselves from what has been, we become rootless, like a tree cut from its soil. Retro culture is the root that grounds us, reminding us of where we came from, reminding us that beauty does not age, and reminding us that the soul of humanity is eternal.

To you who listen, take this teaching into your life: do not rush so fast toward the future that you lose the treasures of the past. Seek wisdom in the songs your parents loved, in the games that shaped your childhood, in the stories that once stirred entire generations. Let these not be forgotten relics, but living companions. For in honoring them, you honor yourself, and in learning from them, you find strength to create anew.

Practical wisdom follows: revisit the retro in your own life. Read old books, play old games, listen to old songs—not as curiosities, but as teachers. Ask what they reveal about endurance, creativity, and the timeless desires of the human heart. And if you are a creator, do as the Renaissance masters did: draw from the wells of the past to forge works that are new, yet eternal.

Thus remember Finn Wolfhard’s words: “I love retro culture. I love retro games; I love retro music.” Love of the old is not retreat—it is renewal. In it lies humility, memory, and inspiration. Let us cherish what has been, that we may carry it forward, weaving past and present into a legacy that will endure for those yet to come.