THE MUSIC OF OUR LIVES
Where Were You?
Don’t certain songs bring back specific ages, feelings, and incidents in your life? Those pings that startle your memory?
They do in mine. Music is my way-back machine. I remember:
1967. I’m 12. The Vietnam War is escalating. Israel has won the Six-Day War, and the first successful human heart transplant has been accomplished. I am oblivious to it all. I have just been given a transistor radio with earphones. I’m in heaven. Every night, I fall asleep listening to rock songs on KGB 92.5 FM, San Diego: Light My Fire (The Doors), Brown Eyed Girl (Van Morrison), Up, Up and Away (The Fifth Dimension, Happy Together (The Turtles), I Think We’re Alone Now (Tommy James), and of course, Cherish (The Association). Almost every song I hear is etched in my brain, I can still sing them word for word. My allowance doesn’t cover the cost of replacing the batteries every other day.
1970. I’m 15. The massacre at Kent State is raging in the news. Jimi Hendrix and Janice Joplin have died from overdoses, and Marcus Welby, M.D. is the hottest television show around. I spend most of my free time in my bedroom with the door closed, listening to Your Song (Elton John), War (Edwin Starr), Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon & Garfunkel), Have You Ever Seen the Rain (Creedence Clearwater Revival), O-o-h Child (Step by Step), on KCBQ 1170 AM. I have a real radio now, and a record player. Albums are out of my budget, so I’m only buying singles.
I’m moody, and if I remember right, not much fun to live with. I get the rap on the door if the music’s too loud (always). I compensate by screaming the lyrics at the top of my lungs. There are teen dances some Saturday nights at the Jewish Community Center, with music provided by whatever local garage band will play for (almost) nothing. I’m living for the music and to dance.
1972. I’m 17. The Munich Massacre occurs. My whole family is tightly wound, stressed to the max. When it’s over, there is devastation in my Jewish community. The Watergate scandal begins. The first scientific hand-held calculator is introduced. My grandparents buy me a bright yellow VW Bug, and I’m anywhere but home! But when I am, I’m listening to Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) (Looking Glass), Nights in White Satin (The Moody Blues), Everything I Own (Bread), and Saturday In The Park (Chicago), either on Boss Radio KGB FM 101.5 or my record player. I can go out with any date, provided they meet my mom’s regulations. Oy, what a struggle.
There are dances with “real” bands at San Diego State University. Once again, I’m in heaven.
1973. I’m 18 and I‘ve graduated early from high school. Syria and Egypt attack Israel on You Kippur. Roe v. Wade is the law of the land. The Paris Peace Accords are signed. I’m hardly ever home. My time is split between working part-time at The May Company, a few junior college courses, the beach, and whatever date I have. The radio and my record player only get attention when I’m getting ready to go out.
I’m listening to Angie (The Rolling Stones), It Never Rains in Southern California (Albert Hammond), You’re So Vain (Carly Simon), Crocodile Rock (Elton John), and Delta Dawn (Helen Reddy). That summer, I meet a 23-year-old law school student named Steven Weinberg. I tell my mom “I don’t care much for him” after our first date. He thought I “dressed weird”.
1974. I’m 19. Richard Nixon resigns following the Watergate scandal. Mood rings are all the rage (and yes, I have one). Rubik’s Cube and the barcode are invented. I’m working full-time at Coburn Personnel, a job placement agency in San Diego. Nights and weekends are spent dating and at the beach. My record player has fallen by the wayside; my radio is my constant companion in the car and at home.
I’m listening to Never My Love (Blue Swede), Mockingbird (Carly Simon and James Taylor), Midnight at the Oasis (Maria Muldaur), Waterloo (ABBA), and Beach Baby (First Class) on KGB FM 101. KGB reigned supreme in San Diego throughout the ’70s and ’80s. That summer, I find myself spending more and more time with Steve Weinberg.
1975. I’m 20. President Ford escapes two assassination attempts. Saturday Night Live premieres, and George Carlin is the first host. VCR’s are developed in Japan. I’m back to working part-time and enrolled in school. I’ve decided to major in Police Science and have signed up for several courses. Nights and weekends are spent dating Steve Weinberg. I manage to get Steve out on a dance floor once in a while.
When I can catch a minute, I’m listening to Born to Run (Bruce Springsteen), Island Girl (Elton John), At Seventeen (Janis Ian), and Lyin’ Eyes (The Eagles). I’m wildly in love with Steve Weinberg. He kind of likes me, too. When he asks me what my favorite song is, I reply, “Mandy” by Barry Manilow. Steve laughs and says, “You do know that’s about a dog, right?”
We married on August 10, 1975. I’m listening to Rhinestone Cowboy (Glen Campbell), One of These Nights (The Eagles), and Someone Saved My Life Tonight (Elton John).
I made sure the band played “Mandy” at our wedding.
What are your music memories from the ’60s and ’70s? What were you up to?
Best. Music. Ever.