NO CHEAP NOSTALGIA

 

            As your semi-kindly editor approaches 40 (for those intent on standing by with a stopwatch, set it for 7:29 AM EDT on June 16), he feels obliged to point out a few facts in order that his young, cubby, woofy…er, sorry, distracted…friends have a little perspective on his life and the parameters of questions that can be asked out of curiosity and/or spite/bitchiness.

 

MUSIC

 

          I can remember KISS and The Bay City Rollers and the Sex Pistols and the New York Dolls and (shudder) Olivia Newton John and the Starland Vocal Band.

 

I can just about remember “Snowbird” by Anne Murray, though I would rather not, and my therapist feels the homicidal rage that follows its being played reduces its value as an educational/historical tool for the young.

 

  I have no recollection of the Beatles while they were together, and Elvis was a sad joke by the time I became aware of his existence (Presley, that is).

 

  I remember these cheesy little chord organs one could get in the early 70s that sounded rather asthmatic (indeed, we had one) – I cannot say I knew anyone with a Moog or Arp monophonic electronic keyboard (though I should add that the 50-in-1 Radio Shack electronics kit I think I had had an option to create a synthesizer – this was not done…).

 

  I remember videos like “Bohemian Rhapsody” or “I Don’t Like Mondays”, but Scopitone predates me.

 

  I learned any number of silly songs at various campgrounds, but even refusing to torture me with a branding iron will not drag them out of me, so don’t bother…

 

K-Tel existed.  So did fluoride treatments at some small town schools, milk and cookies at lunch hour in others and Anita Bryant wanting to be in every school in the world.  Make of these facts what you will…

 

THE HUMAN BODY

 

            I do not have any gray hairs cohabitating with the brown ones on my head (an otter who should be gagged would point out that I have little hair on my head).  The backs of and inside my ears is another matter.

 

          Yes, there’s more of me as I age – more of me to love (or for me to hate you with).

 

SEX

 

Until the 80s, I was too young for sexual thoughts, except about LAND OF THE LOST’s Dad and THE MAN FROM ATLANTIS’ Patrick Duffy.  No, I don’t expect you to catch the references or believe me.

 

FASHION

 

I have no recollection of the clothes of the 1970s.  Attempts to drag up suppressed memories may, again, result in violence.

 

I remember the clothes of the 1980s.  I am able to acknowledge my powerlessness in the face of tackiness and move on.

 

I will tell you this – my aesthetic or lack thereof was pretty much the same throughout most of those times and, indeed, to the present day.  What others did is between them and their cruel, unforgiving God.

 

WHAT PEOPLE DO FOR FUN

 

Kerplunk!, Hungry Hungry Hippos, Mousetrap and Concentration were entertaining.  Future generations of forensic psychologists will presumably find a reason for this.

 

Video games?

 

There was PONG, an exciting game that allowed for two different sizes of paddle and two choices of game involving knocking a blip back and forth in between two white sticks on a black background.

 

SIMON, on the other hand, was more thrilling – it involved hitting coloured panels on a round infernal torture device and, if you goofed in your memory of the gradually accelerating sequence, you were electronically farted at.  It really was a delight.  What!? Stop looking at me like that!

 

POLITICS

 

          I am just old enough to remember the end of the Vietnam War and the 70s resurgence of the Troubles in Northern Ireland.

 

Pierre Trudeau was Prime Minister of Canada during most of my childhood.

 

Gerald Ford did exist.

 

I remember watching Richard Nixon leave the White House.  Had I read JENNY AND THE CAT CLUB a year earlier, I might have learned and then executed the Scottish Hornpipe dance.

 

I do NOT remember: the Bay of Pigs (sounds like a nice place); either of the Kennedy brothers, Martin Luther King or Malcolm X being assassinated or much about the hippie subculture.   Most of these events preceded 1967, and my political awareness during most of 1967 probably had something to do with the equitable distribution of Gerber’s and milk.  Funny how little some things change…

 

IN CONCLUSION

 

Contrary to what you are doubtless thinking, there is indeed dirt that is older than me – beneath the ice in the Antarctic.

 

Some people say life begins at 40.  Those people are 39 and holding (desperately).

 

If I had known I was going to live this long, I’d have taken better care of my boyfriend.

 

And always remember – you’re only half as old as the people you feel (so this is a compelling argument for Daddy/Son or May/December romances J).