Time In A Bottle (Please Pour It Out)

The Pied Piper and Her/His/Its Band of Loons
The Pied Piper and Her/His/Its Band of Loons

I realize one day I will have to defend the 1980s to my son. He will ask the big questions, and I will do my best to make sense of that decade. Everything in excess, big and sprayed and sparkly. But NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING can defend the 1970s. What were you thinking? The entire country did not collectively drop acid in 1973, but you could have fooled me. Witness this scene from Indiana University.

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I realize the times, they were a-changing. The times are always a-changing. I understand that having your friends and family drop dead right and left in a war we didn’t win was no picnic. In fact, I read just today about a six-foot college man who weighed 145 lbs at the time he was drafted and forced himself to drop down to 123 (officially underweight) to fail his physical and consequently avoid service in Vietnam. Now that’s drastic. The fact that 145 was not underweight for a six-footer is equally absurd.

When the clock chimed New Year’s Day in 1973, our boys were still overseas. The stats are staggering: over 8 million GIs were on active duty during the Vietnam War from August 1964 to March 1973.  EIGHT MILLION.

Other things that happened in 1973:

  • Pong was the big arcade game.
  • The MRI was invented. Have you had one? I have. It’s like being trapped in a tube with a pounding hammer in your brain while time stands still. And then they bill you $7K and tell you the diagnosis isn’t certain. Awesome!
  • President Nixon asserted that he was not a crook.
  • Singer Jim Croce died in an airplane crash.
  • Bruce Lee suffered “death by misadventure” when his brain increased 13% in size.
  • The Best Actor Award went to Marlon Brando for The Godfather, but because he was rendered immobile from overcarbing and was overcome with white guilt about the treatment of Native Americans, he thought it would be a most excellent time to send the Mazola lady in his place (you call it corn; we call it maize). Oh, it wasn’t the Mazola lady? Sorry, it was in fact Marie Cruz (Sacheen Littlefeather was not real name) to graciously refuse Brandon’s award for him, because the Oscars was a super forum to do that.  Fortunately, his gesture healed all race relations, so it proved to be a great idea. And lest you think I’m harsh on Littlefeather, I refer you to her integrity-filled Playboy spread.
  • Speaking of air bags, they were first used in the Oldsmobile Toronado that year. I’ve never heard of it, either, but I am saying it with a proper Spanish accent. Toronado.

Anyway, this was what 1973 looked like in Bloomington, Indiana and perhaps most of the country. It’s enough to make a girl staple her knees together and live the celibate life.

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I believe it was Grace Slick who said, “And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you’re bound to fall, well, tell ’em a hookah, a smoking caterpillar has given you the call.” What on earth?

You think that’s odd? These college kids listened to a sermon from a blind Viking named Moondog. I did not make that up.

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These were college-educated lucid students who KNEW it was portrait day and yet CHOSE to show up looking like this.

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Yummy! A Hollywood Squares of hot bachelors! You KNOW I choose Bachelor #2. I’ve never dated a scarecrow hybrid.

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Inflation caused gas prices to skyrocket from 36 cents in 1972 to 40 cents in 1973. I know that’s like COINS, but it was a big deal at the time. They had to resort to alternatives.

come on and take a free ride
come on and take a free ride

Again I stand by my celibacy comment.

These folks may have missed a ticket all aboard the Love Train, but fortunately they found themselves (wasted) in the back of this Chevy truck. I guess The Levee wasn’t dry that day. If only that truck were a DeLorean, they could time-travel to the 1980s, put a clean Izod on, get a shave, a haircut and a hot shower! Far out, man.

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We Won’t Be Late For Our ’48 Date

Insurance48002I almost cropped this pic, but then you wouldn’t have been able to behold the bare bulbs on the ceiling or the fancy borderwork on the walls. Click to enlarge.

Can Music Save Your Mortal Soul?

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You can plainly see why I shared Mr. Fountain with you. I felt like he needed to be in all of your lives. I did not know there was such a thing as a “nationally known clarinetist” (do we have any now?), but he was big enough to play TWO concerts at Arlington High School back in 1963.

Such were the aspirations of these teens with their instruments in the 50s.

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Below is a junior high band in 1923, before electric guitars existed.

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In the back row, you can see Leonardo DiCaprio during his Growing Pains years.

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During the turbulent 60s, girls learned to move to the beat of a different drum. “It’s just like holding chopsticks, Melinda. Don’t try too hard.”

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And these nicely-clad songbirds look confident gathered around the piano.

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Hey, you wanna see what Mr. Fountain looks like these days? He threw beads out to the crowd in New Orleans last year:

http://www.nola.com/fqfest/index.ssf/2013/04/mr_new_orleans_pete_fountain_s.html
http://www.nola.com/fqfest/index.ssf/2013/04/mr_new_orleans_pete_fountain_s.html

I bet there’s a good chance he was at Mardi Gras this week.

P.S. Music is great, but it can’t save your mortal soul.

Share A Square

1964 Sul Ross State College
1964 Sul Ross State College

Whatever outrages you the most in this shot determines your character.

  • For me, it’s clearly Ottoman Head in the middle bottom row. I could plant my rump on that hair and sit a spell.
  • For others, it may be the fact that these members of the Sachem Literary Society (and there were two pages of them) were all dressed in minks. Maybe you don’t like the top of the food chain to wear coats made of the animals at the bottom. I will say I wouldn’t mind wrapping myself in one right now during this frosty season, especially since those minks died around 1964. I’m just saying Nature provides for a bi-polar vortex, that’s all.
  • If you were my cousin, your jaw would be dropping in a WTH response at poor Mary and Martha Russell being shoved into one frame to share it. And it’s not as though there wasn’t space on the page. There is an entire 3″x7″ blank spot right next to this–plenty of room for any sets of twins to have their own unshared portrait and own unique identity. What was the thinking on the part of the editorial staff here? Well, they look the same, so why bother taking two pictures? Who needs to see that face twice?

Perhaps I’m being presumptive; perhaps it was their own idea. Maybe they feel a connection as twins and wanted a “group” shot. Or perhaps they are really Siamese conjoined twins, unable to separate, much less turn around and face each other. Like the two women below. But even if that were the case, I don’t understand why they couldn’t take a picture of each woman and crop the other out. They shouldn’t have to share a square. Or a rectangle, as it were.

I should end the post right here. But dangit, I can’t. Conjoined twins are fascinating. So I’m going to go off on a tangent. Close this out if you are in a hurry.

http://scribol.com/people/news-7-incredible-historical-siamese-twins/1
http://scribol.com/people/news-7-incredible-historical-siamese-twins/1

Don’t you have questions about their hygiene, marriage, clothing, sleeping conditions–things all the unconjoined of us take for granted? I do. Imagine sitting right where you are, typing on your laptop with a person attached to you. And he has to use the restroom. Or he’s hungry. Or he has a fever, which you may well soon get.

Quick history lesson on the Carolina Twins above: Millie McCoy and Christine McCoy (July 11, 1851 – October 8, 1912) were born to slaves, and sold by their owner, Jabez McKay, at TEN MONTHS of age to a South Carolina man, who agreed to pay McKay a percentage of the earnings he made, exhibiting them at state fairs. The “two-headed nightingale” was sold twice more until 1863, when it/they earned their freedom. But don’t be sad; a wealthy merchant named Joseph Smith reunited the girls with their mother, Monemia. Mr. Smith and his wife then provided the twins with an education and taught them to speak five languages, dance, play music, and sing (thanks,wikipedia).

Eventually, they bought the plantation where their parents had originally worked as slaves. They still exhibited themselves, but on their own terms.

http://www.alwaysmorequestions.com/?p=121
http://www.alwaysmorequestions.com/?p=121

What still bothers me on this license is the fact that they are referred to as a “two-headed woman” named Millie Christine, instead of two separate people.  They are actually two women, not one woman. Two brains, two hearts, two souls with separate thoughts and emotions. Now you see where Full House got the idea to bill “Mary Kate Ashley Olson” as one person, instead of giving credit to both actresses.

How-Rude-Stephanie-Full-House

Perhaps that billing contributed to the mystique of the commodity they were selling. Perhaps they were only counted as one person on the census. Whatever the reason, I’m certain that Hayley Mills would not have approved.

http://www.classicfilmtvcafe.com/
http://www.classicfilmtvcafe.com/

P.S. I found the Russell twins on another page in the yearbook. Not conjoined.

Pep In Your Step

Sis Boom Bah, Rah Rah Rah!

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From the 50s to the 60s…

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…to the 70s, cheerleading never goes out of style.

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Even when the outfits are disastrous.

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We’re all familiar with the common “lean-back and flash your invisible oven mitt/handgun/wine glass” cheer, aren’t we?  

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Well, there must be something to it, because many schools employed this tactic, as if to tell the opposing team to “hit the road, Jack.” My lumbar hurts just looking at it.

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But being flexible is the name of the game. Mix with exuberance and stir.

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Of course, you can’t forget your pom-poms.

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Even novices can promote school spirit! This girl appears to be conducting the band with a baton at a pep rally.

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And don’t forget that when cheerleading was popularized over 100 years ago, it was a boys-only sport. That explains why Steve Martin, Samuel Jackson, and several presidents cheered for their schools.

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Can you imagine if men had to wear those tiny Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders outfits?

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Git-R-Done, Larry.