They are from what feels like another century. The great thing about nostalgia is that it allows you think that a particular era or decade was so much better than the present. We tend to think of it as a less complicated time...a time of freedom...it's one of our favorite lies that we tell ourselves. There are truths there in the mist of memory. It was a slower time. We did not have cell phones and computers and all the electronic distraction we have today. We did have the TV with all 3 channels...if you were lucky and could get the UHF channel to come in. That being said, you could still ignore one another pretty easily, you could go outside, go to your room, read a book etc...It was trickier but it could be done and in truth it was more subtle than pretending like you want to interact with someone and then just staring into your phone all night.
This elusive memory/sensation of which I speak is Friday night. Friday nights had a special feel to them for some reason. Dad always got paid on Friday and we would swing through Gayle's Package Shop and he would buy a case of Busch and a carton of Kools. It was our bonding moment. Every other Friday night was even more special though because Mom would get paid and we could treat ourselves to fast food. This was more of treat back then you see because we had very little in the way of fast food in Carthage. You would not have believed the excitement when we finally got a McDonald's. Before the big chains came to town we would visit places like Harvey's Broasted Chicken, Whisler's Hamburgers, Goettles Drive-In, Mr. Quick or maybe take out from Ray's Café. Ooh...or maybe a root beer float from A&W. It was such a much bigger deal back then because it was "special". I would kill for some Harvey's Broasted Chicken some days.
Fridays were also often special because it would be sleep-over night. My best friend Elaine spent a lot of Fridays with us or it might be Mike and Myra or Carol. We would get fast food and watch TV on a big makeshift pallet in the living room. We would get to stay up late and try and scare ourselves silly watching "Dimension 16". Our local channel 16 would show B horror flicks on Friday night starting about 10:30 or so. They are pretty funny at my current agedness but back then it was a little more terrifying to watch Dracula prey on young women or Godzilla battling Mothra and Gammara. Then we would wake up on Saturday and spend the day playing until they had to go home.
It's that promise of special food and fun and the beginning of time to spend with my mom that held such magic. It was the hope that this weekend we could do something fun. Maybe she would feel like playing catch with me or play cards or games with me in the evening? Maybe she would have the energy to tell me a bedtime story tonight? Maybe she could stop giving so much of herself to others and give a little of it to me? You see, I have no doubt that my mother loved me, probably a bit too much. She wasn't cold and distant. But she did grow up in a different time when just keeping your kids alive was accomplishment enough. She loved me but she didn't have the energy or the understanding of how to "parent" a child. She was exhausted from killing herself trying to make as much money as she could because she knew she could not rely on dad. Dad did his best with what he had and he was never going to have a better job. He did what he could mentally do and after he stopped drinking it was easier to get him to do it everyday but it still was never enough. We were always one bad month away from homelessness. It was unsettling as a child to know this and understand it.
Still...despite the benign neglect and the instability of my childhood there is still something so wonderful about that Friday night sensation. The sounds, the smells, the music, the feeling of hope and the happiness. A time before adulthood. A time before you had your heart broken for the first but not the last time. A time before you realized that there are wonderful people in this world but there are ugly ones as well. A time before those closest to you begin to age and die. A time before you have to watch your parents die before you have gotten old enough to understand them better and before you had a chance to try and fix it. A time before human behavior made you feel so very weary...before you too got tired...just like your mother. So here's to Friday night and the wonderful, nostalgic, totally unrealistic picture I have of the 70's. May I forever wallow in that happy sensation and relive the hope and promise that seems so illusive now.
