A Parent's Guide to Dealing With Kid's in the '70s
Are the Seventies Cool Again Yet?
The 1970s were actually not much fun for me. Unless I was visiting my Aunt in Eldorado, Arkansas. At my own house, in Little Rock, it seemed that I was the only one who knew that we were actually, excuse the racial term, "Poor white trash". My grandmother, a fading Southern Belle got me alone in her foyer and informed me that that's what I looked like one day, when I designed my own denim jacket (which I craved mightily) by cutting off the legs of some old blue jeans and sewing them onto the armholes of a sleeveless shirt. I had learned from my mother not to ask for things, and I'd also learned from her how to make your own stuff, your own toys, your own entertainment, your own fun. I didn't care what my grandmother said, actually I felt that I finally belonged to a subculture, and I did NOT take my home made jacket off. My brother even copied me and made one of his own. We got high praise from the kids at school, and I even told them proudly how I did it. That was haute couture for the seventies. I was only about ten years old, but I was learning to do for myself. When we went to Aunt Helen's for half the summer, we lost our shoes for weeks at a time, but wasn't everyone barefoot and free? If there was an occasion that demanded footware, she would pull up to a Walgreens or something and send someone in with enough money for five or six pairs of flip flops. (about five dollars), Skinny tanned legs were all tangled in the Volkswagon as we saw which ones fit who best. Then my cousin would shout out, "put the top down, Mama, it's too hot and crowded in here." And Aunt Helen would oblige, lowering the top of her little VW convertible, and the lucky cousins would jump up on the top of the lowered roof. Clapping joyfully and looking like ragged prom queens and kings in some sort of singular parade. I'm sure riding like that must have been illegal, but we were never stopped in all the years we did it, and we had plenty of room when the cousins from Texas joined us. Something about riding up there made you sing, and when you couldn't think of any more songs, we'd shout out one of the slogans from the seventies to all the other cars, "drive friendly!" which in our silliness soon became "walk your dog friendly" , or "water your yard friendly" and we would bust out laughing at ourselves and how carefree life felt with the wind rushing past, even Aunt Helen would laugh and only try to stop us if we got a little "naughty" with our "friendly" admonitions.
Nowdays, So many rules, mannn
It might , looking back from the twentifirst, safety conscious century, seem like the parents of the seventies were trying to maim, kill , or corrupt their offspring, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't the case. People in the seventies just didn't know anything about safety. Odd, really. How did, in forty short years, the human brain suddenly come to understand that if you load the back of your pick-up with bratty kids, sooner or later, a percentage of them will fall out and meet their bloody demise, no matter how much they enjoyed it. It's also not a suitable punishment for a mouthy kid. Nor is hitting a mouthy kid on the mouth. And Dr.'s should never give a knowing wink to a pair of frazzled parents as he stitches up a lip or eye and says loudly, "you been jumpin' on the bed again, eh Billy." And cars should come with seat belts that don't snap the torso into two parts. And you shouldn't give your kids big blobbly gobs of lip shaped wax and call it candy. That wax tasted good, for some reason, and every kid ate it.
the original twister game
You can still buy the original version of this iconic game which late '60s and early '70s prudes nicknamed "sex in a box". Sour grapes, maybe?
Windsong Perfume by Prince Matchabelli
To me, nothing smells like the seventies more than Windsong perfume. My sister always wore it. When I left my stuffed frog in the rain it got mildewed and I thought Windsong could fix it. It couldn't . Mildew stinks. Windsong good.