I went to a trivia game last night, couple of hundred folks there. The audio category was playing music from the seventies, and you had to name the band or singer. I looked around an noticed all the gray haired people singing along enthusiastically. Just like I was, as I turn sixty-five in December.
Having co-workers who are 1/3 my age.
Remembering when new flags had more stars than old ones.
The “half your age plus seven” rule says most movie stars are off limits, but your own kids are fair game.
Punch cards and paper tape.
Taking all the tubes to the shop and using the tube tester.
Kerosene lamps that looked like cartoon bombs lined up along the road to close a lane.
Job Control Language if the computer was shared, CP/M if it wasn’t.
If a car had safety belts, they were stowed in little spring clips above the doors.
Dashboards were painted metal.
Cars did have chokes but didn’t have windshield washers.
Three on the tree.
Double clutching.
Seams in the middle of windshields.
Baker’s chocolate is not that bad. Not that good if you’re expecting an actual candy bar, but I’ve been known to nibble a spare square or two.
On July 2nd, I was in the hair salon, and the stylist asked about my plans for the 4th. I told her, and added that I hoped the hostess would not put the D.C. celebration on the TV like she’d done the last time I’d been at her house for the 4th. “I don’t need to see the Beach Boys perform, or I should say embarrass themselves, at the National Mall again. Mike Love’s voice is shot; can he really not hear himself?”
Her: “…Who are the Beach Boys?”
Me: “[thumbnail explanation] I guess someone thinks they’re the Quintessential American Band. I’unno; who would you say is the ultimate American band? The Eagles, maybe? Van Halen? Creedence?”
Her: “[silence]”
Me: mortified.
There have been 4 presidents younger than me.
I fully expect to be there myself. Or die trying.
I was sitting next to a couple at a bar, in their late twenties, very early thirties. They were talking about clothes and the woman was explaining what a bustle is.
Him: But could you puta bustle in a hedgerow?
Her: What? That doesn’t make sense!
Him: It’s a line from a Led Zepplin song.
Her: Another one of your obscure 80s bands?
I got it printed in “Overheard in DC.”
Ooh, I remember those.
How about little “Stop” things embedded in the road. The were designed to bend over or slide down when you “accidentally” run over them.
Or when a lot of stop signs were yellow and/or round.
Then the year-tags on license plates that were metal with tabs. You put the tabs in the slots on the plate and bent the tabs to hold them on.
I remember my father installing seatbelts. A family friend had been killed on being ejected through the windshield so he was an early adapter. The next auto he bought had to have the belts installed as a DIY project as well. He was delighted to find the manufacturer had installed anchors under the back seat so he didn’t have to mess around with fender washers and bolts that might or might not have been strong enough. The buckles gripped the webbing with spring-loaded teeth – none of this metal-to-metal stuff.
Sure, as an adult I’ve indulged in bars as high as 87% and even sampled 90. As a four-year old, I was disappointed.
In addition to unsweetened you can get bittersweet, semisweet and even sweetened baking chocolate. The latter is handy if for example you’re going hiking or camping in hot weather; less likely to turn into soup.
At work, they sent out questionnaires for the next Meet ‘n’ Greet, and asked if you had encountered anybody famous. I said I had gotten an email from Rodney Dangerfield.
When the hostess read my answer, she added “For those of you who aren’t familiar, Rodney Dangerfield was a famous comedian.”
I don’t get no respect.
Seeing attractive people and thinking, I wouldn’t have a chance with them because I am too old for them.
(note: I once dated a 42 year old guy when I was 58)
My husband is exactly 20 years younger than I am.
I was on a flight once from Florida to Indianapolis. There were two young ladies, about 15 or so, in the seats next to me. This was a fairly short flight, so there wasn’t time for a movie; instead, the in-flight entertainment was just a sitcom episode and a few music videos.
One of the videos was The Beatles doing “I Want to Hold Your Hand” on the Ed Sullivan Show. One of the girls sitting next to me turned to the other, and asked, “Who is that?”
Her friend said, very knowledgeably, “I’m pretty sure those are the Beach Boys.”
Okay, they’re young, it was before their time. But wouldn’t the fact that it said “The Beatles” in great big letters on Ringo’s bass drum give you some kind of clue? :smack:
I once saw a young guy wear a cap with Oklahoma City on it. I told him I liked the tribute. considering what happened there. He asked, in all seriousness “What happened there?”
What do they teach in history class these days?
There are some friends I only meet now at funerals.
I’m so old, I remember when Michael Jackson was a poor black man. He died a rich white woman. :rolleyes:
You know, there’s being young, and then there’s being plain ignorant. I’d say those two, the guy who didn’t know what happened in Oklahoma City, and the woman who thought Led Zeppelin was an “obscure 80s band” fall into the latter category. Some things are such cultural touchstones that if someone is completely unaware of them, they are probably willfully unaware of most of pop culture and history.
I can’t name one song that Billie Holiday was known for. But I know who she was (and that she was a woman!). Everyone can’t have encyclopedic knowledge of everything, but some things are just part of the collective consciousness. There’s a movie out right now about the Beatles, or rather their absence. Zeppelin is, if nothing else, part of the stoner stereotype. The OKC bombing was one of many domestic terrorism incidents, and it gets brought up every time another one happens. If someone is ignorant of these things, they must be keeping themselves ignorant.
Sometimes I try to convince myself that the girl was being sarcastic–making fun of her friend for not recognizing the Beatles (or being able to read the obvious clue on the drum!)–but based on her tone, I really don’t think so.
:D:D:D
My sister is 2 years older than me, and she graduated from high school in 1969. Her class had their 50 year reunion this spring.
As we were talking about her reunion, I brought up the fact that when she graduated, the class that had their 50th reunion that year was the Class of 1919.
That was a sobering thought.