Who Was On Your Wall?

One of the interesting aspects of growing older is that you have more time to reminisce with friends and family. The kids we shuttled around are out on their own and we are able to reach out to friends that have somehow fallen by the wayside. We have time to chat and most times we are pulled back into our younger days.

Recently, we were all talking about posters we hung on our walls in High school. Everybody did it. Our parents came from a time when money was tight so there was no extra money for frivolous wall decorations in the kid’s bedroom. Whenever you went into a friend’s room you were greeted with David Cassidy, any member of the Monkees, Bobby Sherman, or Barry Mannilow.

I was a little different. I loved sports figures. I had Roman Gabriel, quarterback for the LA Rams. I had Pete Maravich, (Pistol Pete to you) when he was with the New Orleans Jazz, and one of my all time favorite was Mark Spitz on the cover of Sports Illustrated. I can still picture him there on my wall with all those gold medals hanging around his neck.

I was weird. I didn’t really understand how my friends all thought the Monkee’s deserved a space on the wall when my boys had really accomplished something.

Except my friend Cathy. She had a life-size cutout of John Wayne in the corner of her room. That I could get behind.

I wondered about the pictures we hung. Did they somehow represent the man we would someday select as a mate? My husband was an athlete. My friends would joke that I could pick Kirk out on the practice field just by how he looked from the back in those wonderful football and baseball pants. He was competitive, but fair and as most of the guys on my walls he also was one of the “Good Guys”. Perhaps those posters were a young girl’s way to express those attributes that would be important later in life.
My daughter had the Muppets on her wall.

That explains a lot!!!!

Oldies but goodies

It happened. Just the other day, I was driving down the road, hit the search button on the radio and it stopped on an oldies but goodies station. Steve Miller Band blared from the speakers. “Fly like an eagle…” and I was jamming. My radio is usually set to the country station. If you’ve read my blog, you know I can’t get enough of Brad, Kenny, Martina, Faith, or Tim, to name a few. On this particular day I was in the mood for change. (Even though we’re old we still like the occasional change up). So, I’m listening. They are all there. Harry Chapin, Jim Croce, Dan Fogelberg, John Denver and the Beach Boys. I sing along. I know every word and each one takes me back to a special time.

The Beach Boys came to the Ohio State Fair my junior year in High School and we all went to see them. Floral shirts dotted the stadium as we sang along and danced the night away. Dan Fogelberg did an acoustic tour my freshman year in college at an outdoor venue where we sipped wine under the stars and munched on cheese and crackers.

My husband was into the louder venues. These were the bands that played the huge auditoriums. People pressed in so tightly that when one person jumped up they took the people on either side along for the ride. The Doobie Brothers, Boston, Journey, and other ear splitting bands all played accompanied by the sweet smelling smoke that filled our lungs and saturated our clothing.

On this day, as I drove around with the windows down and the “oldies” music blaring, I was taken back to that simpler time. And when I pulled up to a light and got an angry look from the “older” people in the car next to me, I just smiled and waved. Because for that moment I was seventeen and kicking back, just enjoying some tunes.

I guess I am an oldie but a goodie!!!