Isn't it the way things go? The closer a deadline looms, the more little things pile up that absolutely, positively have to get done? I'm great at fooling myself; a master procrastinator, if you will. Where did the time go, I ask myself. Then suddenly new tasks pop into my mind and my to-do list grows. I have two weeks of employment remaining. Thus, two weeks of health insurance. I thus must squeeze in a yearly medical exam and finish up that bridge work before the buzzer buzzes; all the while careful not to use any of my 238.02 hours of paid personal leave so I can reap a big payout at the end of the day. (I knew there was a good reason I never took a vacation). Working from home, I don't have the luxury of imparting the wisdom of my job, except via emails to my boss. And if one does the same things every day for twenty years, they tend to take duties for granted and perform them on auto-pilot. Attempting to create a list is mysteriously difficult. I think it may be because so much of what I do is intangible, and I can't convey that electronically, hard as I try. Had my replacement been named, the two of us could share phone conversations. Alas, that person is unknown to me (and to everyone else at this point). My boss keeps hinting that maybe I could potentially, theoretically change my mind; but that die is cast. And I'm warming up to the prospect of retirement. And everything must end. Things I've done this week:
I visited my dental office. Much as I abhor dentist visits, I appreciated human contact so much, I transformed into a veritable chatterbox.
I retrieved multiple Amazon packages from my doorstep and mailbox and marveled at the number of purchases I vaguely remember transacting.
I mistook Tuesday for Monday (in my defense, it was a holiday week).
Things I learned this week:
There truly are some evil humans. I always excused people as being "troubled". Sometimes video disabuses one of those notions.
I watched online and on TV as my adopted city burned.
I decided that the year 2020 has no redeeming qualities.
Enjoy your weekend. And don't set anything on fire.
The decade of the seventies was a strange time. It was garish. Color TV was
still relatively new and televisions either couldn't quite get the colors right
or that's how everything actually looked, which is actually worse. Reds were
REALLY RED; orange was flamboyant and pervasive; lime green was somehow a
desirable color. It was a visual assault. No wonder everyone was so uptight.
Early seventies TV shows tried to straddle the line between budding social
consciousness and corny catch-phrases (Dy-no-MITE!) Hit sitcoms included
Sanford and Son ("It's the big one, Elizabeth!") and Alice
("Kiss my grits!"), and everyone was in the doldrums because they
couldn't fill up their gas tanks and the usurers were lending money at eighteen
per cent interest.
Living room rugs were a thick shag that had to be raked (with an actual
rake) and was either burnt orange or avocado green (to match the kitchen appliances).
A hit song was all about some dude talking over his CB radio, which no one but
long-haul truckers actually owned. My little brother taunted me with his
Rubik's cube, which I could never solve nor never cared to; but twisting its
sides around acted much like a stress ball, until I got sick of it and tossed
it into the dense carpet, never to be unearthed again.
Everyone who was anyone, and those who were no ones had a variety show ~
Tony Orlando and Dawn, Sonny and Cher, Donny and Marie, Flip Wilson; and they
all featured the same rotating cast of musical guests ~ Jim Stafford was a
mainstay. Ray Stevens showed up a lot. Mac Davis was a pain in the ass, because
he was everywhere on TV and never had one song that wasn't boring as a dead
fish.
AM radio was the tether that cloistered us.
I was in high school in the early seventies, and I separate the decade into
two parts. Because the first half actually yielded some classic tracks. Or
maybe I was just seventeen.
Songs that Alice and I sang along to in the car:
It wasn't so much that we liked this one, but we
couldn't ignore it. After all, it spoke of the "pompatus of love":
Johnny Rivers was still making hits:
This was pure gospel:
A new guy who seemed to have two first names pierced my soul with this song:
If this man had never written another song, he'd be legion with this alone:
But he also had this one:
In the second half of the seventies, music got away from...I guess, trying.
Pop culture was curious. Sitcoms apparently longed for the distant past ~ Happy
Days and Laverne and Shirley were set in the fifties. And almost all TV
comedies were written at a sixth-grade level, which is why it was a revelation
on the rare occasion when a smart one came along.* On Three's Company, poor
John Ritter spent the half hour leering, while the dumb one (which is
relative), Chrissy naively uttered double entendres. A smash hit when it
debuted, Welcome Back, Kotter became famous for stupid lines that became
cultural touchstones, like "Ooh ooh, ooh, Mister Kot-TEER!" and, of
course for that new guy, John Trav...something. And not content with two hit
series, Garry Marshall created another idiotic one about an alien, launching
the career of a hairy guy named Robin.
*The smart one was Barney Miller.
In fashion news, polyester reigned! And not today's polyester-cotton blends,
but a springy extraterrestrial fabric that could withstand a Chernobyl-like
meltdown and still look "pretty". Culottes were also a thing. Sort of
shorts, but you could wear them to work. The worst fashions were actually worn
by men, who were somehow talked into dressing like a Times Square pimp ~
leisure suits (polyester, of course), gold chains, gaudy flowered (polyester)
shirts with butterfly collars. And don't forget the long sideburns.
Voters elected a peanut as president; and not just any old peanut, but a truly
hapless legume. Never fear, however; everything he failed at he simply blamed
on us (and by the by, I didn't vote for him).
No wonder the music became outlandish. Here is a sampling of hit songs from the
last half of the decade. You be the judge:
1976:
(And I didn't even know that the late political commentator Alan Colmes had
a seventies gig as a soft rock singer!)
1977:
1978 (Hey! There's that guy from Welcome Back, Kotter!):
1979:
It's a giant leap from Gordon Lightfoot to the Village People, but there was
a lot happenin' in the seventies. Musically, one could say that the seventies
saw the biggest transformation of any decade; not necessarily for the better.
Personally, changes proliferated. I went from a high school girl to a mom twice
over. I accepted that I had to grow up, although my quest wasn't entirely
successful.