The Puberty of My Generation – Rochester Rocks

There was something so polyesterly hopeful about the 70’s wasn’t there? Things were un- sophisticated and awkward. The 70’s were the puberty of my generation. People drank and smoked and had really bad furnishings and carpet – mostly in shades of dirt brown and olive green. People drove rusty Pacers and Pintos and we ate baloney and Miracle Whip on Wonder bread sandwiches for lunch that sat in our stinky lockers for hours. I don’t believe sushi or Pinot Grigio were even invented yet. As I end day 7 of my menisectal confinement, I am reminded how much the world has lost by growing up and becoming so gentrified, sophisticated, and self-important. A dear old friend from high school posted a slew of pictures on facebook yesterday which only drove the point further home. We had bad hair and not so groovy clothes. Our houses and cars were necessities, not status symbols. No one gave a rat’s ass about whether the refrigerator was a Sub-Zero or the tile around the toilet was travertine. We just lived – hoping there was some food in one and the other was available and functioning when nature called. Our parents did the best they could and indulged us only when we deserved it or they could afford it. I am so grateful for the childhood I had and for my childhood friends – most of whom I haven’t seen since the Regan administration other than on facebook. It’s so comforting to see that no one has really changed a bit. Our lives were so blissfully unaffected by any attempt at hipness that we were, in fact, hip. So thank you my hipster Rochester friends – you’re some of the best people I know.

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