Category: youth

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 20 Comments

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

Gonna keep on dancing
To the rock and roll
On Saturday night, Saturday night
Dancin’ to the rhythm
In our heart and soul
On Saturday night, Saturday night

Bay City Rollers, 1973

 

Today’s thoughts in the clouds are more of a shake, rattle, and roll of the brain in general and memory in particular.

I was wondering — how important was Saturday night to you? Moreover, how important was Saturday night to you when you were 16, 17 years old?

I heard this song on an oldies station the other night. I happened to be driving home, the sunset orangy and red and beautiful, the weather on the tip of being warm. And I thought about  how special Saturday Night was once upon a time. Especially to young dreamy girls. (Maybe guys too — I never asked!)

The generation 10 years before me sighed and danced to All I Have to Do is Dream by The Everly Brothers and hoped and prayed someone would ask them out on a date to a soda shop or drive-in or record shop. Having a date on Saturday night was very important to one’s ego and status back in 1958. 

Back then, the ultimate proof of a successful Saturday night was “going steady.” Tokens of that depth of commitment were getting pinned, wearing your boyfriend’s letterman sweater, or exchanging school rings. 

My generation of 1968 was not much different. Being pinned or exchanging high school rings was still important. I remember going steady during part of my high school life, and always needing to do something on Saturday nights. I was dreamy eyed listening to  Love is Blue by Paul Mauriat and spent hours either talking on my pink princess phone to girlfriends or reading Modern Bride or Seventeen magazines.  

This song got me to thinking. The Bay City Rollers were sooooo excited to go out on S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night. Even in 1973 that was the  highlight of the week! The ultimate goal! The pièce de résistance!  

Time moves forward. Things change. Times change. Girls and women change. And I wondered what dating life was like for girls 16-17 years old back in 1988. Or 1998. Or even 2008.

I dunno — even though my late high school days were an emotional mess, I miss having a special date night of the week to plan for and to look forward to. Not that I still don’t go out on Saturday nights — maybe I just miss the innocent anticipation.

Was Saturday night a big deal to you? Is it a big deal these days?

I would love to hear your stories. Your experiences. Your thoughts.

♪♪ Blue, blue, my world is blue …. Blue is my world now I’m without you ♪♪♪

 

Monday Monday

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 8 Comments

Bah-da, bah-da-da-da
Bah-da, bah-da-da-da
Bah-da, bah-da-da-da

(do you know the song yet?)

Monday, Monday (bah-da, bah-da-da-da)
So good to me (bah-da, bah-da-da-da)
Monday mornin’, it was all I hoped it would be ..

All the oldies out there knew the song by the first six syllables. Funny how engrained music is into us. Even when we don’t think about it.

Was trying to come up with a topic, a theme, for this cloudy, cold Monday. But if there’s nothing there there’s nothing there.

Then a slip of lyrics passed through my head.

Monday, Monday (bah-da, bah-da-da-da)

I was a freshman in high school when the Mamas and Papas sang this song. I was escaping the horrors of middle school at that time. Those were rough times, especially for a geeky, smelly kid like me.

Not really stepping back, but I do know that even back then music made a difference in my life. The Beatles were my saviors, the Dave Clark Five my happiness. No one could break the bond between me and Paul or me and Dave. My writing started way back then, too. I used to have a notebook with my first love story written in it, but it is long gone. Perhaps it disappeared when it served its purpose.

Music was an escape when I was young. An emotional booster, an answer for self-consciousness and self-doubt. I didn’t think about doing drugs or getting drunk or having sex back then. (Shows you how backwards my freshman year was.)

But Last Train to Clarksville by the the Monkees and Summer In The City by the Lovin’ Spoonful and Five O’Clock World by the Vogues were songs that wrapped around those hard times and cushioned decisions in my life like why I never had a date Saturday nights or if my girlfriends wanted to have a pajama party or should I try out for the school play when I couldn’t sing.

I wonder if kids today have an inkling of that innocence. If they ever have a chance to be kids. If they ever have a choice to not be a part of the violence and discrimination and hatred that swirls around all of us.

I suppose songs like WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion (I wouldn’t look up the words if I were you) reflects the current needs and desires within a high-school education, the need to be free and understood and in control. Maybe innocence in its banal form is not needed anymore. Better to be smart than be exploited.

These days I find myself wandering back to that innocence I probably never really had. I have had enough of death and prejudice and politics to last a lifetime of discovery. Time for a bit of innocence to return to the world.

Do you believe in magic in a young girl’s heart
How the music can free her whenever it starts?
And it’s magic if the music is groovy
It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie………..

 

Hot Moms at the Playground

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 11 Comments

The first thing I have to say is the truth. I am Jealous. Envious. Covetous. Wanton. Wistful.

Okay. Now that that’s over…I took my grand kids to the park Saturday morning to encourage their Adrenalin dispersion. So here is granny, an average-looking 64-year-old, scrubbed, puffed, a touch of makeup, a decent pair of Capri’s and fun t-shirt, feeling good, feelin’ hip, keepin’ up with swings and slides and Jungle Jims. There were two baseball games going on in the background, middle-school types, lots of cheering and hoho’s. Then I looked around at the other mothers.

These women were knockouts. I figured these moms were leftovers from the games, watching their toddlers on the swings and slides and Jungle Jims. Now, I live in a small town. A college town. I’m not saying we don’t have attractive people here, but to have the playground filled with them is an eye-opening experience.

They hung out in pairs and trios, the same short-shorts, long hair, small waistlines, all tossing their hair as they bowed their heads down to read their cellphones, watching their precocious kids talk about their magic beads or ninja moves or playing zombie tag.  One of the moms was pregnant, and even her awkward bundle looked great in her top and Capri’s.

Now you must wonder why I chose the word ‘jealous’ to describe my feelings at the time. I mean, there was a time when ~I~ was a young mom taking my kids to the park with ~my~ girlfriends. My friends and I laughed and talked about the kids, our husbands, going out on Saturday night. We’d party at each other’s houses, spend a weekend shopping and stay the night in a hotel, drinking and eating and confessing our secrets to each other. Our kids played together, our husbands told stories together. It was a wonderful circle.

But that seems so long ago.

I think I’m jealous because I remember looking like that. Thinner, thicker hair, clearer complexion. I’m also jealous because these girls have theirwhole life ahead of them. They still can be executives and fashion designers and doctors. Their kids are still little, with soccer and baseball games and field trips and prom still to come. Their children still worship them, still love sharing snuggles and hugs and cuddles.

I know the best medicine for this unreasonable bout of jealousy is to share the snuggles and hugs and cuddles of my own kids and grand kids. To go watch their baseball and soccer games and take them camping and shopping and stay up late. I can touch the memories of days gone by by making new memories today.

I’ll always wonder, though, how I made it through all those younger days without a cell phone.