Coming Back Around

I'm not feeling well enough today to come up with any original thoughts, so how about looking at some old ones with a few updates? This post is based on an email that showed a bunch of old print ads from way back when, and they really showed how far we've come, in addition to providing a clear look at the era to which the current Republicans want us to return. Warning: Rampant Misogyny Alert!

(Note: you can click any of these images to see a larger version.)

Wow, right out of the gate... woman as "doormat."  Or is it "conquest?"  You can't even tell what this is an ad for... (Checking small print...)  Leggs?  How does this sell pantyhose?

Jon Benet Ramsey - The Prequel. Coming to a molester near you. Looks like Epstein was grooming earlier than we realized.

"When Dr. Emphysema tells you to 'turn your head and cough', he beats you to it." Personally, I wouldn't trust anyone who looks like Spiro Agnew.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!  And you're supposed to BUY something that has this picture in the ad???  Someone's going to have to rock me to sleep tonight. This ad was all I could think about before I had cataract surgery, and they didn't even give me Thorazine.

"Yes, I can squeeze a bowling ball out from my lady-parts, but I can't open this lil' old ketchup bottle!  Please help me, Del Monte!"

 Hooking them young! But I bet there's some Seagram's in there, too.

Whoa! Over-reaction alert! Quoting the ad: "...if he discovers you're still taking chances on getting flat, stale coffee... woe be unto you!" Woe be unto you??? Who's running that ad agency, Leviticus? Did they really spank over coffee back in the day? I never saw that on Ozzie and Harriet. Although I suspect Ricky might have turned Lucy over his knee a time or two.  

I can’t imagine anyone cleaning the house in heels, a knee-length dress, a lacy apron, and full makeup. The need for "pep pills" to get all dolled up is self-explanatory, though. 

This one really isn't that bad of an idea.  It's just very sneaky. Women can get even for all that doormat stuff by running psy ops on their husbands. 

I'm only including this one because I used to collect beer cans, back before I was old enough to empty them myself. And the flat-top can was always a big find. Now admit it... did you really know that you used to have to use a can opener (called a "churchkey") to open a beer? I don't know why it was called a churchkey... maybe because it led you to the holy water.

I wish you could see the type on this one, but it's an ad for... get this... Lysol-Brand Douche! Ahhhh-hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa. I can just see it: "Oh my, I don't feel so fresh... ~pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht~  Yay!  I feel so much better now!  I can tear down these giant cobwebs my husband somehow spun. Now, where's my apron? Where are my heels?"

Oh yeah, she'll follow your heinous smoke-breath anywhere. Like to a dentist's office to clean those yellow teeth, you smelly cretin.

I can’t, for the life of me, figure out the connection between killing a woman and a postage meter. Any help? I think she ought to jam the guy’s tie into the slot and start cranking.

We now take time out from killing women to kill some children. Actually, this could be an NRA ad, right now. 

Baby: “Yeah, Mom, please chill out and have a smoke, before smoking my bottom for smearing my diaper all over the wall.” Random thought: If a baby is nursing while the mother is smoking, should the baby be able to blow smoke rings?

I bet those Chesterfield boxes autographed by The Gipper are worth something now. At least I hope so, just to make up for the emphysema.

This is amazing. “A case of Blatz in your home means much to the young mother, and obviously baby participates in its benefits.” So we’re getting the babies drunk, are we? I’m picturing the baby taking a long pull off of Mommy, leaning back and going, “BRAAAAAAAAAP!”

Subaru has made quite the turnaround in ad philosophy, didn't they? They went from crushing women’s spirits to being the car of choice for lesbians. Total U-Turn.

At least this one is better than the Thorazine “Eye Surgery/Torture” ad from above. I actually like this one. I’m sending a case of Thorazine to my parents immediately. You know, just in case Walgreens is all out. I’m sure the guy in the picture is agitated because even with arthritis, they still made him tie his own tie.

Is it wrong that the first thing that hit me was “Why is that dude wearing a shirt and tie to bed?” Can’t be a “50 Shades of Grey” thing... I’m sure the lady is only on her knees out of gratitude for being let out of the basement pit long enough to make breakfast. I expect this to be an early version of a JD Vance campaign poster.

This one is partially true. Men may not be the number one reason for women taking Midol, but I bet they’re a close 2nd.

I’m sure the gays would provide much better entertainment on a cruise than THAT. The dude with the puppets doesn't say “gay,” he says “child molester.” The people circled around him have obviously never made it past Romper Room. Next time, book the cruise that Lenny Bruce is playing.

If Santa gives you a gun, you can skip the background check.  After all, he’s the top authority on whether you’re naughty or nice.

If I ever gave my wife a Hoover vacuum cleaner for Christmas, she’d never be able to use it. It would be too hard for the vacuum bag to expand after she stuffed it up my ass.

Hey look!  They had Fox News on TV way back in the 50s!

Thunderstruck

We pause this series of spleen-venting posts about the impending end of this free Republic to bring you something completely off-topic. It’s the same old stuff going on week after week anyway, isn’t it? This week we have a new pope. I saw a post from MAGA wingnut Laura Loomer vehemently complaining about Pope Bob. All I can say is that if MAGA hates him, then that’s probably the best-case scenario I can expect. Meanwhile…

I’ve never made it a secret that I’ve been an AC/DC fanatic ever since the early 80s. They’re my favorite band by far, and I’ve been jamming to them since I first saw the concert movie, “Let There Be Rock.” Seeing the phenomenon known as Angus Young in action was life-changing for me. I’ve seen them five times before, from 1985 to 1996. So when I saw that their latest tour was going to Pittsburgh, I figured it was time to act. 

OK, to be honest, the only "action" I took was to plant the seed in my brother’s head (he who first brought AC/DC records into the house) that maybe we should round up his boys and go see the show. He did the rest, securing us tickets and hotel accommodations. (Thanks, bro!) Going to the show tonight in Landover, MD, would have been closer to us here in Baltimore, but we have family in The Burgh, so that made it a much more attractive trip.

The concert was to be in the football stadium downtown, a venue with which we are quite familiar. We stayed at the Sheraton at Station Square, across the river from the stadium. After landing in town and soaking up a little South Side* ambiance (and beer), we took the Gateway Clipper (ferry), which dropped us off outside the gate.

* "Sah-side" to the locals.

I was pleased as I could be with our tickets, not because they were the closest, but because they were in the first row of the second tier, meaning there would never be someone standing up in front of me, so I needn’t stand either. (These old knees aren’t what they used to be.) We had the same deal when we saw Springsteen last September. 

This was our vantage point:

It was an interesting crowd, definitely older than what I used to see at an AC/DC show. And I was pleased to see that a lot of the old folks were there with their kids. In fact, I sat beside a very nice mid-40s woman who was there with her mother. I had a great time yapping with them and trading concert experiences before show time.

We never got out there in time to see the opening act, so I have nothing to say about them. But as expected, AC/DC went on at the stroke of 8:30. Too bad they didn’t make a big entrance like they used to. When I’d seen them before, they usually had a big stunt or effect to get things going. This time, they just ran a video intro, followed by the band moseying onto the stage.

In the prior week, I looked up their set list for prior stops on the tour and learned that they didn’t deviate much. So I knew what to expect for the night, and it panned out that way exactly.

Now, two main issues were apparent. (And also expected, due to the preponderance of video on YouTube from the tour so far. The first was the State of the Angus.

Yes, Angus Young is old now, 70 to be exact. So there was no way he would match the energy and raw mania that marked his 20s and 30s. But goddamn, he still got around pretty well for such an old guy. He didn’t run around as much, and only did his trademarked “duck-walk” maybe a half-dozen times. But it was still there and always in the right place.

The other issue is Brian Johnson’s voice. It was still there, but we couldn’t really gauge the quality because the vocals were so far down in the mix. If we didn’t already know all the words, we’d have no idea what he was singing.

The photo looks like black and white because that’s how the video was designed for Back in Black.

But ultimately, it didn’t matter because the crowd was all-in on participation. I know I was singing my face off along with everyone else, especially during the big choruses of Highway to Hell, You Shook Me, Dirty Deeds, and all the “Oi’s” of TNT. I was surprised I still had a voice in the morning.

The good thing about knowing the set list was that I could pick the perfect times to nip out and take a leak. (And with all the pre-show beer, there was a lot to leak!)

There will always be songs you wish they’d play but didn’t, especially for a band with as many albums out as AC/DC does. But there are also “locks,” which you KNOW they’ll play, like (aside from the ones mentioned above) Shoot to Thrill, Thunderstruck, Let There Be Rock, and my favorite, Whole Lotta Rosie. But they played six songs I’d never heard them play before: If You Want Blood (opener), Demon Fire, and Shot in the Dark (two new ones), Have a Drink on Me, Stiff Upper Lip, Rock & Roll Train, and old classic Riff Raff (from Powerage, 1977).

As always, they finished the initial set with Let There Be Rock, which ended in a 17-minute guitar solo, with Angus working out on the end of his runway and being raised high overhead on an accordioning platform, finishing to bursts of confetti. My rock musician cousin, who was there with us, said that was his favorite part. For me, I’d prefer they trim the long-ass solo and play a couple more songs. I’d recommend Shake Your Foundations and Flick of the Switch, from their mid-80s albums (from which they never play anymore).

For the obligatory encores, they opened with TNT and closed with For Those About to Rock, cannons and all.

The cannons rolled up from above the drum riser.

They also had a set of differently-styled cannons on each side.

We bugged out during the last of the cannon fire, missing the fireworks show, but that was a small price to pay for not getting trapped in the aisles, waiting for everyone above you to file out. We got back to the ferry in good time so we could relax with another beer on the way back to Station Square.

I’d seen two other AC/DC shows with my brother, in ’85 and ’88, but I was especially happy with this experience because my two nephews got to go. They’d been hearing our stories all their lives, and while they’ve seen many videos, nothing is like being there.

I don’t know if this is the band’s last tour or not. I would hope they hang it up before they become a joke. I know it would still draw, but I just couldn’t see them all sitting up there on stools, playing an acoustic show. It may work for the Eagles, but they’re a different kind of band.

I’ve gotten to meet a lot of different musicians, back when I was in the record store business, but I never got to meet anyone from AC/DC. I’d love to grab a minute with Angus and let him know just how important he and his band have been to my family and me. His music was the soundtrack to every Barn Party we ever threw. It’s hard to boil so much content down to a quick pleasantry, while posing for selfies, but I think I’d tell him this:

“I’ve probably gotten more pleasure from your right hand than I have from my own!”

Hell, he hung out for years with the mischievous Bon Scott, I’m sure he’d take it in the spirit with which it was offered.

This is the set list from Minneapolis, which exactly matched the Pittsburgh set.

 

G'Day Bruce

Going to concerts used to be a primary form of entertainment for me. Some of that just comes with youth, but much of my concert history was because I worked in record retail for 13 years, starting in college. The job was shitty but the perks made up for it: free albums/tapes/CDs, posters, various swag, and of course, concert tickets.

From 1979 to 1996 I saw 95 concerts. In the 28 years since, only 14. And that’s fine… there are far fewer bands that I would even consider going to see. Sweetpea and I have only seen three. One was John Mellencamp, one of her favorites. That was a birthday gift for her in 2019.

Two years ago, we saw ZZ Top. It was my 5^th time seeing them and it seemed like each show was shorter than the last. This time, they started encores after an hour of playing, and the show wrapped up 18 minutes later.

This brings us to last Friday when Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band played Camden Yards in Baltimore. (The baseball park where the Orioles play.) These tickets fell into my lap.

I had considered trying to go when the show was originally scheduled, but you know how Ticketmaster is with the big shows… First, you have to join some kind of club to get a special access password or some shit. Then log on at the split second the website opens for business. And maybe, just maybe, you win the right to pay an outrageous sum for the privilege of being allowed to attend. Who needs it?

Bruce postponed the 2023 concert due to health issues and later rescheduled it for last weekend.

My brother had bought a pair, I suspect on the secondary market, for him and his oldest son to go. But in the gap between the original show and the make-up date, the #1 Son moved to Philadelphia for a new job. #2 son was away at college. So, not wanting to go with anyone else, he offered the tickets to me. So thank you, Bluz Brother, for your incredible generosity.

I’d seen Bruce once before, on his 1985 Born in the USA tour, Pontiac Silverdome, north of Detroit. That was when he was at the height of his powers. He played for 3:20, not including a 35-minute intermission. He also told great stories, had detailed introductions to songs, and genuinely made all 68,000 of us feel like he was talking to each of us. That was an amazing experience. It was like, “How will any other show ever measure up to this?”

Like we did for the ZZ Top show, we decided to make a trip out of it and book a hotel downtown for that night. All the better not to have to worry about sitting in a massive parking lot traffic jam at 11:00 at night.

Unfortunately for us, all the “good” hotels were booked up, no doubt at the moment the new date was announced. But I managed to find a Days Inn about 2 blocks away. Not fancy, but it would do. All we needed was a place to crash for the night. And because this was an “event” night, they wanted $358 for this small, outdated room. Price gouging is real, folks! But whaddya gonna do? It was worth it not to have to fight the traffic.

Anyway, the seats were tremendous. Thanks again, bro! We were in the club level, first row. That’s the tier directly above the lower bowl, and being in the front row, there’s no one to stand up in front of you! Hallelujah! Given that Sweetpea is barely 5’1”, that’s always a consideration.

The place was pretty full but this wasn’t a rowdy crowd. It was mostly a bunch of white senior citizens. I don’t remember seeing anyone younger than 30. But that’s to be expected now at shows from the rock and roll dinosaurs of my youth.

This was our vantage point before the show started. No mosh pit, just some organized folding chairs. The stage was by the centerfield wall, with the legendary Warehouse lurking to the right.

At the stroke of 7:30, the lights went down and the band took the stage. Immediately, I tapped Sweetpea on the shoulder to acknowledge that her prediction was correct that Bruce would open with Hungry Heart. (Opening line: “Got a wife and kid in Baltimore, Jack/I went out for a ride and I never went back.”)

For a 74-year-old guy, Bruce looked damned good. While he was spirited and energetic, he wasn’t doing any more end-to-end stage runs that ended up with him sliding on his knees. 74-year-old knees are nothing to play around with, after all.

This time out, there were no long stories, no charging everyone up like a Baptist preacher. He didn’t say much in this show, in fact, he barely spoke from the opening number until the 15^th song. Until then, all we heard between songs was an impassioned “1-2-3-4…”

I’ll tell you, video screens are what make these big shows enjoyable. I barely even followed the action on the stage… not that you could really see anything. I just watched the near-side video panel. But here, (above) you could see where he came down the steps, up close to the audience. He did that frequently throughout the show. I don’t think video screens became commonplace at concerts until the late 80s to early 90s. Before then, you just had to try to weasel your way up front to get a good view. I know in my old days, when I was going to see a band at a club or small hall, I’d get there when the doors opened, so I could dash up front to get close to the stage. Back then I could stand for the whole show. Now, it’s all about getting a good seat.

Some other thoughts via pictures:

There’s nothing more Rock n Roll than Bruce and Little Steven sharing a mic for a big chorus. I didn’t get to see Steven the first time around so I was glad he was there this time.

Is there anyone who gets a bigger sound from such a small drum kit than Max Weinberg? The guy can really pound. But his kit looks like something you'd get a kid who's just learning.

Saxophone duty was handled by the late Clarence Clemmons’ nephew. If you closed your eyes, it definitely sounded like The Big Man.  The kid played his ass off. One of the night's best moments was during 10^th Avenue Freeze Out. I was wondering how they were going to handle this part… When the line came up: “A change was made uptown when The Big Man joined the band…” they showed the unmistakable silhouette of Clarence, followed by some other pictures of him and the late E Street keyboardist Dan Federici. Oh man, that hit me right in the feels. I actually choked up a little.

Bruce did a cool thing I liked when we went down close to the crowd. It wasn’t exactly Angus Young soloing while being carried through a raging crowd on his roadie’s shoulders, but it was very Man of the People. Nobody was grabbing at him though. Mostly they wanted to take selfies.

As he was winding up with a raucous version of Twist and Shout, he hollered to the crowd, “Do we look tired?” as he wanted to know if the crowd wanted more.

With an incredulous look, he shouted, “You think you can outlast the E Street Band??”

Man, no one outlasts these guys. They may be old, but they run a well-oiled machine. It’s a joy to see people at the top of their craft, entertaining a crowd.

He wound up the show by 10:30, clocking in at an even three hours, (In other words, like more than two ZZ Top shows.) 

Worth every penny.

Director's DVD Commentary: My apologies if you were lured here by the headline and expected to see something about Monty Python's legendary Australian Philosopher's sketch, wherein everyone is named Bruce and they end with the classic "Philosopher's Song," containing the immortal lines:

"Aristotle Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,

Hobbes was fond of his dram.

And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart,

'I drink therefore I am.'"

It's just that whenever I hear the name "Bruce," this bit is my go-to frame of reference.

Ghost in the Graveyard

In the most “in-character” thing he could do, TFG had his first ex-wife buried on his New Jersey golf course. At first blush, you’d think, “OK, makes sense, I guess.” But then we hear that this burial now qualifies his golf course as a “cemetery” and is thus exempt from property, inheritance, income, and sales taxes.

Isn’t that the most Trumpian thing you’ve ever heard of? And of course hers is a sparse gravesite, with nothing but a simple plaque on the ground, bearing her name, and birth/death dates.

How long before he puts up a tee box on this site? Or an ATM?

I would bet that when he goes to plan his own gravesite, it will resemble a shoddily built Taj Mahal. Granted, that’s only if he can figure out a way to get someone else to pay for it. But looking at how he used Ivana’s death announcement to fundraise, I don’t suppose it will be that hard.

One might think that her offspring would have had some objections to such a muted display. I mean, I’m sure Ivanka could have dropped some of her recently made fortune for a more impressive memorial site. But is it really a surprise that they didn’t? I’m sure they’re just stoked about ducking the estate taxes on the land when their old man finally kicks.

I think the state of New Jersey should revisit its laws on the subject and establish that there be a minimum number of graves on site before bestowing such tax avoidance largesse. I’m sure this wasn’t what they had in mind when the law was written. I mean, hell, everyone could try doing this… just bury Grandma in the backyard and live tax-free for as long as they have the property. They should close this big loophole before it catches on.

I like what fellow blogger Vixen Strangely suggested in the comments of her recent post, in which she hopes Ivanka turns poltergeist.

I think a good haunting is exactly what that place needs and I know just how it should be done. The ghost of Ivana should haunt her ex-husband’s golf game. She could use her powers to push all his drives out of bounds and into the woods and all his putts run short. TFG takes so much pride in his golf game, she’ll ruin it for him for the rest of his life.

Or she can just make his balls disappear. You can take that any way you’d like.

Fascist Q and A

Did you see who’s speaking at CPAC (Conservative Political Action Conference) this week? Hungarian authoritarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban, that’s who. In a speech last weekend, he said he “wanted to prevent Hungary from becoming a ‘mixed-race’ country and that countries with racial mixing are no longer countries.”

How very Republican of him. Do you think they’re having him there to debate his views on race relations? Or to pick up some tips?

You know it’s the latter. He’s even given them a 12-Step plan on how to attach liberal democracy.

Republicans aren’t even hiding their intentions anymore. They’re just coming out in the open and trying to erase our democracy, right under our noses.

I don’t care how aggressive some Democrats get with getting hyper-woke and bending our language in knots, it’s not nearly as bad as depriving people of equal rights under the law. When Republican apologists among us try to alibi out of this, saying, “I don’t think they’re going to overturn rights to mixed marriage or ban contraception,” I immediately remember all the people having that same conversation about Roe, and we know what happened there. Yes, they will. They’re saying they will, they’re finding out how to do it, they’ve installed a Supreme Court who will bless it, and they will do it at the first opportunity. Why else would they invite a public paragon of racial purity to speak to their convention?  And why else would he go, if he didn’t know he’d be preaching to the choir?

In these upcoming mid-terms, we need to be very cognizant of what is truly important and what is the sideshow. This shit right here is important.

Don’t Get Comfortable

As I mentioned last week, Democrats in Congress are trying to pass bills to safeguard same-sex marriage, abortion, and contraception. I hope they do, if for nothing but to make it obvious who is for what. BUT, in no way should we think it would the fight be over at that point.

If any such law passes, conservatives will begin challenging the law in court before the ink is dry. It will eventually end up at the Supreme Court and I guarantee they will find a way to nullify it. No matter how carefully the bill is crafted, (and I seriously hope they’re making this thing legally fireproof), they will come up with some kind of rationale, however shaky, to kibosh the whole thing. They’re already pretending that a couple of amendments don’t exist to justify overturning Roe.

I mean, that’s why they’re there; exercise the GOP’s will. The Constitution? The Will of the People? They don’t care. If they weren’t willing to rule this way, they wouldn’t have been on the Federalist Society’s list, to begin with. Their votes are already locked and loaded.

A View from the Crowd

I haven’t been out in a crowd for a while but when I do go, some things never change.

Last week Sweetpea and I went to see ZZ Top in downtown Baltimore and decided to have a mini stay-cation, by staying overnight at the Marriott Waterfront, which is right beside the concert venue.

The big, white, tented area is the venue, as shot from our room at the Marriott.

And hey look… Marriott is in favor of keeping abortion legal. This was on the wallpaper near the ceiling…

…Although I could be misinterpreting.

Now, I have seen a LOT of concerts in my day, 108 to be exact, and I always seem to have the same problem. There’s always some jackass standing right in front of me.

Now, I don’t mean when everyone else is standing, that’s normal. I mean when there’s no one else in the area standing up, but there they are, directly between me and the object of my attention.

I call this out in the Book of Bluz, particularly Bluz 3:24, “Whether it's at a ballgame, a concert, or whatnot, if you're the only one standing up, you're an asshole.  A complete, self-centered, self-absorbed, inconsiderate, flaming asshole.  Everyone else who bought a ticket didn't pay to see your back all night.”

The last time I was here was to see Boston in 2014. And there she was, one lone figure planted between me and the stage.

This night, our seats were pretty good, in the middle of the pavilion, behind the soundboard, with about 4 empty rows in between. (Why these rows were empty, I have no idea. They weren’t available for purchase when I was ticket shopping, that’s for sure. So I thought we’d be golden.

But then there was this guy, part of the event staff, who spent about half the show standing behind the people working the soundboard. He wasn’t acting as Security, working the board, he wasn’t doing anything but standing there watching the show. Right in front of me.

Occasionally he would be joined by a security person, who when she wasn’t making people who stood behind the sound area move along, stood right there beside him.

Most of the time I was able to look around the blockade, but it was irritating, especially since they were staff. They should know better than to block the view of paying customers.

The show itself was fine, albeit short. They started their encore songs after an hour and the show was over in 78 minutes. I don’t expect every show to run as long as a Springsteen show, but Bruce’s first set used to run longer than this. With a band that’s been around since 1969 and a huge catalog, they could have played another hour easily, and the crowd would have still known every song.

But while they were playing, it was fine. The bass player filling in for the late Dusty Hill was OK, but he just didn’t seem to have that same synch with guitarist Billy Gibbons that his predecessor did. They used to move together like they were tied to the same string.

It just seemed like they were going through the motions. It was the 5^th time I’ve seen them, but the last time was 28 years ago. I guess we all slow down.

I was hoping to produce a couple of decent pictures but alas, when I read the fine print of the venue rules, they allow small cameras, but none with a lens that extends over an inch. Mine does, when it’s zoomed. While I considered bringing it in anyway, there was a risk. I didn’t really care to bring it back to the room, and I certainly didn’t want it confiscated. So that left my cellphone camera, which in the iPhone 8, just isn’t as good as the ones in the newer models. This was the best of the bunch:

By comparison, this is a shot I took of Boston’s guitarist and founder/genius Tom Scholtz, with my regular camera in the same venue:

I don’t know if they had this camera ban in 2014… maybe I just missed it and got lucky.

But anyway, it was a nice night out and something we haven’t been able to do in several years.

Maybe we’ll catch them again in another 28 years.

Old Pictures, Old Ways

 I come from a family of picture-takers. When I was a kid, whenever we visited our relatives, finding and paging through their phono albums was a common activity.

When I was staying with my Mom back in September, after my father passed, I had the chance to go through some old, familiar albums that I hadn’t seen in years. For some of the albums, I just took cell phone shots of the pictures, just because there were so many I wanted and no time to set up for a long scanning session. These albums covered specific periods, from places we lived to ones dedicated to weddings.

Then I got to borrow a couple albums from my sister, which covered our family’s earliest days. One covered the time from my parents' wedding in 1960, through 1964, by which time my brother and I had been born. The other covered 1965-1968, capturing my sister’s birth and the fallout of two boys having a little girl in the house. Those, I had the time to remove from their photo album pockets and scan properly.

Between those earliest albums to the ones Mom had, it was interesting just seeing the development of photographic technology. Some of those earliest shots of my parents’ honeymoon were on old black and white paper, with the edges all wiggly, rather than straight-edged.

Mom and Dad on their honeymoon, looking all cute, like the Champion Poconos Rowing Team.

Others had holes punched across the top like it was torn off a stack of other pictures.

Dad, still on honeymoon, after winning the award for the best-looking guy wearing his new wife’s clothes. (No I’m not posting the pictures of THAT.)

A lot of the color had faded from the 60s shots, and the 70s pix had that bright “70s” look. And I especially appreciated the ones with the white border and the dates stamped on them. That removed the inaccuracy of a fading memory from the equation, (allowing, of course, for the time gap between the activity photographed and when the film was actually taken in for development.) Plus, it was the perfect place for a caption.

And of course, it was fun watching my siblings and me growing up page by page. But I was usually more interested in the background objects…

“Remember that swing-set? Look at that old TV! Oh God, the cuckoo clock!”

And then there were the anachronisms that stood out so starkly from how we live today, starting with the ever-present cigarettes in people's hands. I can still remember my Grandpa’s retirement parties, (there were several because he kept going back to work, probably just to have more parties), that took place in their basement. There was singing, playing instruments, and general high times, conducted by grownups in dress shirts and ties, or party dresses.

That’s my grandpa on guitar.

The rest of the band. Grandpa and the harmonica guy used to like to secretly turn down the other one’s amp.

I wanted desperately to go down there and enjoy the revelry, but the smoke was so thick, it burned my little eyes. Oh, the misery that was me! Now that I think of it, it was probably a conscious decision to create an effective kid repellent, so the adults could get their party on in peace.

Another thing I noticed is how parents used to really dress their kids up for a day with the extended family. Hats were a big thing and I don't mean ball caps… I was 4 years old and walked around wearing a sport coat and fedora like I was a miniature Frank Sinatra.

I look like I just got done coaching the 1965 Chicago Blackhawks.

The other thing that stood out was the apparent lack of basic safety protocols that would result in calls to Child Protection Services if done today. For example, consider this happy picture of my brother (R) and me (L):

What was the thought process behind this carefully arranged shot? I figure it must have been something like, “Hey, let’s put the boys up on the edge of this 4-foot stone wall, right on the ends of the railings. No way they’ll fall off and break their necks. And let the little one keep holding that stick, which surely won’t get jammed through his eye when he falls. And the big one? He’s got a hat on, which is almost as good as a helmet. Besides, that bush will break his fall. Can’t coddle these kids now, can we? OK, everybody smile!” 

The freakin’ 60s…

Same deal with this picture of me and my cousins a few years earlier, up on the same wall.

Maybe they were counting on us cushioning each other’s falls. Or maybe my dad, (far right) thought he could dive in and catch us, like Roberto Clemente going after a short pop fly. I think maybe he wanted to bump me off so he could have my little truck all to himself. And speaking of Dad...

More Dad Stories

When we held the remembrance event for Dad, my Uncle Joe, who lives in California, sent a few words for his son to read on his behalf, which included this brief story:

I’m a lifelong car guy. Jim was not. Jim’s first car was a 1960 Plymouth Valiant. 4-door sedan. The coolest thing about it was that it was a stick, but instead of 3-on-the-tree, it was a floor shift, which I thought was supremely cool.

Now my first car was a 1961 Volkswagen Beetle. The coolest thing about my car, besides that it was a convertible, was that it was not only stick, it was a 4-speed! When I bragged about that to Jim, he was not only unimpressed he said, “Why would anyone want to shift an extra gear?? It makes no sense!”