I was a child of the 70’s.
Oh, the decor. My house was the quintessential example of 1970’s living. My parents were very hip. We had it all – the shag carpet, the eight-bulbed “I look a bit like a tree” light, the plants in the macrame hangers that we’d MADE, the royal blue octagonal couch, the blue and yellow striped, full-length curtains, the blue, red, and yellow triangles, diagonal stripes and circles that we’d painted on our living room walls, the brown and silver wallpaper in the very next room, etc. etc.
Growing up, I was in love with Shaun Cassidy, Chachi Arcola, The Fonz, and Peter from The Brady Bunch. I knew what it meant to have “feathered” hair. I had a lava lamp. I ate bacon and didn’t think twice about it.
I listened to music like this…
I can’t tell you how much I loved this song. I used to roller skate to it all the time. I hated Nana Mouskouri.
I’ve talked about this era with my kids before. The conversation went something like this:
“Hey mom, what was is like growing up in the 70’s?”
“Well – how can I put this so you’ll understand – we didn’t have computers like you do today. People sat around talking to each other face-to-face. There were no cell phones, which meant, if your parents went out, you couldn’t complain to them about stuff until they got back. And you had to physically get off the couch to turn the television channel.”
“That sounds like hell.”
“We didn’t know any different, so it was OK.”
“And here I thought you had it better, you know with everyone smoking weed and having sex with random strangers all the time.”
“It wasn’t always good. The strangers could be kind of hairy.”
My son looked at me. “What?” He wasn’t impressed.
I laughed. “I’m just kidding. I wasn’t even a teenager during the 70’s. I wasn’t having sex with anybody.”
“Good, because that would be gross.”
“And to think, I have to hear about you doing it.” Kids these days, they tell their parents everything. My, how times have changed.
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