
1967 Round Table, Oklahoma City, OK
1967 Round Table, Oklahoma City, OK
Girls dancing to the music of the “mouth organ” (let’s call it a harmonica) to celebrate the August Bank Holiday on Hampstead Heath. Despite the layers of heavy clothing, they seem to be enjoying the moment just fine.
Most of us don’t immediately associate beaches with the city of Cleveland. In fact, I am so full of ignorance about the city, that other than it existing inside of Ohio, I only know that Drew Carey was born there. I also know he was a Marine, and that his middle name is Allison, so that shows how much MORE I know about Drew than his birthplace. So if you’re like me, you will be gobsmacked to learn that they put some sand along the edge of Lake Erie and called it a beach. No sharks? No salt water to sting your eyes? Sounds nifty!
I hear they have freshwater jellyfish, however, but not big enough to give you a painful sting that lasts for two weeks with shooting bolts of pain down your leg, like the fun Gulf of Mexico offers. Cleveland’s Edgewater Beach website says one can enjoy 2400 feet of beach and 1000 feet of swimming access. Let’s go! Any readers done some swimming this summer, either alone or completely disobeying all the laws and engaging with friends and family? I surely have not.
Kiddos swing their hips at New Jersey’s Brookside Swim Club during the 1950s, while moms look on. With a club record of 3000 spins (who was counting?), a 10-year-old boy claimed victory. I bet most of them didn’t last two minutes.
Spin while you can, son. Vertigo sets in as you age, at least in my case. Unless of course, the hoop is an onion ring. But then you get your cardigan and khakis all oily.
This image of busy cash registers at the Evanston, Illinois Conrad Hilton bar was taken nearly 63 years ago to the date: April 8, 1957.
April 8th was the kickoff dinner of the second annual Soph Week, with an evening of frolic and festivities for students attending the “Hi-Guy, Hello-Girl” dance, where Jimmy Palmer’s band played swinging tunes. Here’s hoping we’ll all be in good form at the end of this trial, ready to sip and socialize.
During these heady times, it’s hard to refrain from going stir crazy. But keep in mind that cabin fever is always better than lowgrade fever. Even the President said a hell-to-the-no when Birx mentioned her fever.
In the words of Nirvana, stay away.
Running out of ideas for solo activities? Well, let’s take a cue from history.
You could make a pyramid, reminiscent of the wonder of the world. You will be self-isolating, so no one will see your Daisy Dukes or judge your ale intake.
You could bundle up under the covers and read a good book, or just the Cliff’s Notes.
Catch up on the funnies in your paper.
You could science up and create a vaccine.
Or spend time with microfilm. How long has it been?
Try tobacco! And maybe write the Great America Novel while you’re at it!
Lie on your bed (but first take your saddle oxfords off because the virus can stay on the soles of your shoes for days) and think about yesterday, when all your troubles seemed so far away.
Pick up the telly and place a call to an elder relative whom you usually avoid because conversations with them are meandering and taxing and oppose your belief system.
If spring has sprung in your town, pack a sack lunch and head over to a nearby park, spray the entire bench with Lysol, sit down, and enjoy a snack, while hearing the mating calls of the doves.
And if you are part of the unfortunate “essential” few who have to be in public, remember to wear your mask.