Flashback 1973
I had plenty to blog about--during the week, I'll usually say to Adam, "Remind me to blog about that," and if I'm really on top of things, I write it up as a draft--but for some reason it's all escaping me this week. I can't remember a single thing I wanted to say. Plus, I'm blogging at a precarious angle because there's a Doodlebug asleep on my side as I sit on the sofa (I know that's hard to picture but take it from me, this isn't a position conducive to blogging). So instead of thinking of something new to write, I'll tell you about 1973. Why 1973? Because when I asked Adam to pick a year, he picked 1974. Only I have no distinct memories of 1974, but I do have distinct memories of 1973, because that was the only year we lived in Miami Lakes, so 1973 it is. (By the way, totally random aside, for all of you who have given up on checking, Adam has finally updated his blog.)
Remember 1973? Picture it. Tony Orlando and Dawn. Billy Jean King was battling Bobby Riggs. All in the Family was the number one show. The Sting was still playing at drive-ins. Roe v. Wade was decided. Watergate investigations were happening. The Miami Dolphins beat Washington in the Super Bowl to cap off the perfect season. Secretariat won the Triple Crown. Pet Rocks. Okay now forget all of this because with the exception of Tony Orlando and Dawn (hum along now to "Tie a Yellow Ribbon"), I wasn't aware of any of these things. Hey, I was four years old! We lived on a street (Sea Grape Terrace) that had lots of boys on it. I used to play with Patrick who lived across the street from me. Patrick had a lot of siblings, and we used to like to play Cowboys and Indians (I know, it's not PC, but give me a break, it was 1973). They always made me be an Indian because I didn't have a gun. I wanted to be a cowboy soooo badly but they wouldn't let me. I begged and begged my mother for a gun, but my hippie mother was against the idea. This I remember well. I also remember (well, okay, the picture helps) me in my little blue dress, my tiny pigtails, and blue bows in my hair opening up a Hanukkah package that was as tall as I was. It was not just a gun, it was a machine gun that shot sparks! It was waaay bigger than the guns of those boys. I can't recall if they actually let me be a cowboy after that, but boy did I love that gun. I recently learned why I got the gun: My mom really didn't want me playing with violent toys. It was a matter of principle. But supposedly I approached her one day and said, "I know why I can't have a gun. It's because I'm a girl." I guess feminism trumps pacifism.
Other memories: I had a smiley face sweatshirt that I loved (sort of like this one, but more '70s looking). I wore it tons. I used to hang out with Travis next door, and his mother Gail always wanted me to take the sweatshirt off when I was inside. "But you'll be cold when you go outside if you don't take it off inside," she'd say (although how cold could it be? It was Miami Lakes). Yet, I'd stubbornly refuse. This is the same woman who ran a stop light and when I called her on it, said it was allowed once you stopped if no one was coming. I told my mother this and she laughed and that's when I learned that grown-ups don't always tell the truth. One day I went to have a playdate with a girl from preschool. I can't remember her name, but she had short blond hair and I really liked her, but she was always a little lukewarm to me. I'm not sure how we ended up playing together except, of course, that our mothers must have arranged it. Anyway, they had a large dog (at least from my perspective the dog seemed large). I was scared of the dog so the mom put the dog out by the pool, but I was so freaked out by the whole thing that I decided that I didn't care so much about being her friend and that I wanted to go home early. The girl got really upset and started crying, asking me to stay but the more she wanted me to stay and the more her mom tried to convince me, the more I wanted to go home, so my mom had to come get me. What else? There were tadpoles in the lake in our backyard (yes, Miami Lakes had lakes! And I just learned, for the very first time, from the map above that the lake we lived on was Lake Hilda), which were neato, and then there were frogs in our porch, which wasn't. My dad had to go into the sewer one day to fix something or another, and I remember his head poking up through the manhole and the kids around watching him (can that be right? Or am I making that one up?) I remember walking on Patrick's driveway when it had just been asphalted and the bottom of my feet getting black. The babysitter tried to frantically scrub it off of me and she kept telling me how angry my mother would be. I was terrified, but my mom didn't care and she just used some turpentine to clean me off (and it amuses me to think that really the babysitter must have been worried that my mother would be angry with her; after all, I was just four). I shared a room with the Tweedle Twirp who had to sleep with a brace on her feet (she was born club footed). At night, she'd toss and turn and eventually get her brace stuck in the bars of her crib (she was just one at the time) and I'd have to wake up my mother to get her unstuck.
Hmmm. It looks like my version of 1973 isn't that interesting after all. Let's hope something fun happens in 2004 that I can write about next week.
Remember 1973? Picture it. Tony Orlando and Dawn. Billy Jean King was battling Bobby Riggs. All in the Family was the number one show. The Sting was still playing at drive-ins. Roe v. Wade was decided. Watergate investigations were happening. The Miami Dolphins beat Washington in the Super Bowl to cap off the perfect season. Secretariat won the Triple Crown. Pet Rocks. Okay now forget all of this because with the exception of Tony Orlando and Dawn (hum along now to "Tie a Yellow Ribbon"), I wasn't aware of any of these things. Hey, I was four years old! We lived on a street (Sea Grape Terrace) that had lots of boys on it. I used to play with Patrick who lived across the street from me. Patrick had a lot of siblings, and we used to like to play Cowboys and Indians (I know, it's not PC, but give me a break, it was 1973). They always made me be an Indian because I didn't have a gun. I wanted to be a cowboy soooo badly but they wouldn't let me. I begged and begged my mother for a gun, but my hippie mother was against the idea. This I remember well. I also remember (well, okay, the picture helps) me in my little blue dress, my tiny pigtails, and blue bows in my hair opening up a Hanukkah package that was as tall as I was. It was not just a gun, it was a machine gun that shot sparks! It was waaay bigger than the guns of those boys. I can't recall if they actually let me be a cowboy after that, but boy did I love that gun. I recently learned why I got the gun: My mom really didn't want me playing with violent toys. It was a matter of principle. But supposedly I approached her one day and said, "I know why I can't have a gun. It's because I'm a girl." I guess feminism trumps pacifism.
Other memories: I had a smiley face sweatshirt that I loved (sort of like this one, but more '70s looking). I wore it tons. I used to hang out with Travis next door, and his mother Gail always wanted me to take the sweatshirt off when I was inside. "But you'll be cold when you go outside if you don't take it off inside," she'd say (although how cold could it be? It was Miami Lakes). Yet, I'd stubbornly refuse. This is the same woman who ran a stop light and when I called her on it, said it was allowed once you stopped if no one was coming. I told my mother this and she laughed and that's when I learned that grown-ups don't always tell the truth. One day I went to have a playdate with a girl from preschool. I can't remember her name, but she had short blond hair and I really liked her, but she was always a little lukewarm to me. I'm not sure how we ended up playing together except, of course, that our mothers must have arranged it. Anyway, they had a large dog (at least from my perspective the dog seemed large). I was scared of the dog so the mom put the dog out by the pool, but I was so freaked out by the whole thing that I decided that I didn't care so much about being her friend and that I wanted to go home early. The girl got really upset and started crying, asking me to stay but the more she wanted me to stay and the more her mom tried to convince me, the more I wanted to go home, so my mom had to come get me. What else? There were tadpoles in the lake in our backyard (yes, Miami Lakes had lakes! And I just learned, for the very first time, from the map above that the lake we lived on was Lake Hilda), which were neato, and then there were frogs in our porch, which wasn't. My dad had to go into the sewer one day to fix something or another, and I remember his head poking up through the manhole and the kids around watching him (can that be right? Or am I making that one up?) I remember walking on Patrick's driveway when it had just been asphalted and the bottom of my feet getting black. The babysitter tried to frantically scrub it off of me and she kept telling me how angry my mother would be. I was terrified, but my mom didn't care and she just used some turpentine to clean me off (and it amuses me to think that really the babysitter must have been worried that my mother would be angry with her; after all, I was just four). I shared a room with the Tweedle Twirp who had to sleep with a brace on her feet (she was born club footed). At night, she'd toss and turn and eventually get her brace stuck in the bars of her crib (she was just one at the time) and I'd have to wake up my mother to get her unstuck.
Hmmm. It looks like my version of 1973 isn't that interesting after all. Let's hope something fun happens in 2004 that I can write about next week.
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