“The sixties are back, and better than ever!” Or so says a radio spot promoting Hairspray, the musical my wife and I saw last night at a local theater. I’m not one of those men who dread going to these shows; I like the singing and dancing and the music of a live orchestra. It’s usually the storyline I find hard to take, and this one was no exception. Set in 1962 Baltimore, Hairspray is about a girl trying to land a spot on a television dance show and, simultaneously, get that show to integrate its cast. The plot relies mostly on jokes about overweight people, a large man dressed as a large woman, and the shocked reaction of a few white people to the sight of their kids breathing the same air as some black teenagers. There were references to Eddie Fisher, Mamie Eisenhower, and the Gabor sisters. Watching this show was a little like reading a comic book from the 1930s. I got the general idea, but I never felt myself becoming immersed in the story. I was a spectator.
Still, it got me thinking. I was seven years old in 1962. There were some unpleasant things going on in my family, but I was blissfully unaware of them. I also had some vague sense that the world might blow up at any moment, but other than the occasional dive under the desk at school, nuclear holocaust was no more than an abstract idea. I was preoccupied with more pressing matters. How were the Yankees doing? How many home runs was Mickey going to hit, and would Willie hit more? Did Roger have any chance of duplicating his incredible performance from the previous season? What about that new team in town, the Mets? And were we having pizza for dinner on Friday, or was this fish week?
All I wanted for Christmas in 1962 was an Etch-A-Sketch. It was a brand new toy that you could use to draw pictures by turning two knobs back and forth. Most magical was the fact that you could then erase the pictures just by holding the thing upside down and shaking it. I didn’t get one, but my cousin did. When I expressed some mild disappointment, my uncle took me aside and advised me that I wasn’t yet old enough for an Etch-A-Sketch. I was a little afraid of my uncle, but I silently wondered how old you had to be.
The following year, reality came knocking, uninvited. One spring day, I happened to be walking by the convent at lunch time. It was warm, and the side door was open. As I passed, I caught a glimpse of something that terrified me. Just inside the door, a group of nuns was sitting around a table, and they were eating. Let me repeat that: the nuns were eating. Just like real people. Maybe they were real people. I wasn’t sure. I had always thought they were some kind of semi-supernatural being, not in the same category as angels or saints, but not like us either. This eating thing was knowledge I was surely not supposed to have. I felt like Adam and Eve, only I was wearing a school uniform.
In June, Pope John XXIII died from stomach cancer, an illness he’d been fighting since the previous September. This was major. Every Catholic in the world had been praying for him, and he still died. It occurred to me that if prayers didn’t help the pope, they probably wouldn’t help anybody. Especially me.
That same month, Governor George Wallace tried to prevent two black students from registering at the University of Alabama. President Kennedy had to call in the National Guard to physically remove the governor, if necessary. In August, Martin Luther King delivered his I Have A Dream speech to 200,000 people gathered at the Lincoln Memorial. These events opened my eyes, at least a bit, to a situation I had failed to see before. Our neighborhood was a mixture of every ethnicity and complexion. So was our school. We were all people and we all had names and feelings, and we liked or didn’t like each other based on how we behaved. I had assumed the world worked that way. More accurately, I hadn’t really thought about it at all. But I was beginning to understand that things were not as they had seemed. The light coming on in my head was casting some ugly shadows.
In October, the Yankees lost to the Dodgers in the World Series. It took me a month to get over this. The Yankees couldn’t lose, and certainly not to the Dodgers. But they did lose; worst of all, they were swept. The Yankees scored a total of four runs in four games. Sandy Koufax, the Dodger pitcher, had struck out fifteen batters in the first game with 69,000 fans watching at the Stadium, just a few miles from our house. During the Series, Mickey and Roger combined for two hits in twenty at-bats. It was a nightmare. What could be worse?
Seven weeks later, President Kennedy was shot in Dallas. Once again everyone prayed, and once again it did no good. That weekend The New York Daily News published a drawing of Kennedy’s face. The picture had blank areas that you were supposed to color in with a pencil. The finished illustration was a black and white portrait, complete with a thick black border. I cut out the picture and taped it to our window, facing the street. I liked to draw, and was proud of that tribute to the fallen president, as sad as it was.
The next month, I got an Etch-A-Sketch for Christmas. It wasn’t easy to use and most of the artwork I produced was unrecognizable, even to me. But you really could erase everything just by shaking it. You could make all of the mistakes go away, and start over. Sometimes I wish life were like that. I wish we could erase those parts where we really messed up, as though they never happened. And I wish we could capture the good stuff, the happy memories, keeping them frozen like an over-sprayed hairdo. I wish it were possible to return to that time of blissful ignorance, at least for an occasional visit. If only we could. The sixties would be back, and better than ever.
Betty Londergan
September 9, 2010
Very thoughtful, thought-and memory-provoking, and poignant! I love the way you tie so many things together in a quilt of impressions and emotions … well done!!!
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bronxboy55
September 9, 2010
Thanks, Betty. You’re one of my favorite writers, so those comments mean a lot.
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Mitch
September 9, 2010
Man, I wouldn’t want the 60’s back for any reason I can think of except it produced the Jackson Five and man landed on the moon. Having said that, I have always wished I could go back and erase certain things from my past as well, but then I realize removing those things would change who I am now; actually, that might not be such a bad idea sometimes.
As for the Etch-a-Sketch, I can’t remember if I got my first one at 7 or 8, but I have a bunch of them because they’d start leaking and my mother would throw them away and get me a new one. I was never good at it either, and it amazes me even now when I see how some people have totally mastered them.
I’m betting you would have gotten a better reaction to the original movie Hairspray than the musical, even though it still had Divine as the mother. Not sure if you’ve seen it, but it might be more up your alley. Then again, the guy who directed it was kind of weird, so you never know.
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bronxboy55
September 9, 2010
I was surprised to see that the original movie came out in 1988. Either I forgot about it or I’d never heard of it. The title alone would normally send me running in the other direction (it reminds me of the movie “Shampoo,” which I’ve never seen and probably never will).
Have you seen what some of these people can do with an Etch-A-Sketch? I used to draw an outline of the Manhattan skyline and I thought I was Rembrandt. If you haven’t seen it, take a look:
http://www.gvetchedintime.com/gvetchedintime/gallery.php
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Amiable Amiable
September 9, 2010
My brother, born in 1950, would enjoy your post. The 1960s was a rough decade for him because I arrived on the scene in 1961. I can’t imagine I bugged him too much in 1962, but once I started getting into his stuff it was the end of blissful ignorance for him. I loved my Etch-A-Sketch and am so glad my brother didn’t El Kabong me over the head with it. The Quick Draw McGraw Show. Now there’s a blast from the past.
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bronxboy55
September 10, 2010
Now hold on thar, Baba Looey! I watched Quick Draw McGraw, too, but Huckleberry Hound was my favorite. Do you know where this comes from: “Don’t go away mad. Just go away.” I’ve been saying it to all three of our kids for years, but I can’t remember where I first heard it. I think it’s one of those cartoons from the early ’60s. Deputy Dawg, maybe?
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mirroredImages
September 9, 2010
I have to say, not to shortchange the writing, that my favorite part of this post is the Etch-a-Sketch with the 1962 on it. That’s fabulous! I could never do anything more exotic than straight lines and angles. I couldn’t even write my name.
But I also found the whole bit about the inefficacy of prayer very poignant. We’ve all prayed for things, earnestly and with great passion, that have not come to pass. A common human ailment: Shattered faith.
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bronxboy55
September 10, 2010
As a Catholic school student, I was taught about God’s will and also about the power of prayer. I’ve never been able to understand how the two ideas fit together — unless God is undecided on certain things.
The image of the Etch-A-Sketch is a fraud. I drew the “1962” separately and combined them. Have you seen this? http://www.gvetchedintime.com/gvetchedintime/gallery.php
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shoreacres
September 10, 2010
This is really quite interesting – partly because from my own perspective in 1962 (I was 16 at the time) many of the things you mention looked quite different.
What I find most interesting is your final paragraph, and my own reaction to it. I wouldn’t erase a thing – not one, not even the worst. None of us lives without regrets, longing that we might have acted this way rather than that – but still, I wouldn’t change a thing. Every event, every decision, every response, has made me who I am today.
As for capturing the good, keeping it frozen – I’ll pass on that, too. To go with the hair metaphor, I prefer my memories blowing freely and tangling in the wind, rather than being sprayed into place.
And you’ve reminded me of something else I’ve come to believe: that ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s ignorance. I could be pretty far out here, but I’ve always thought it a bit of a blessing that Adam and Eve got that bite from the apple off the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Both exist, and I’m happy to know about them – even though I’m the one who has to deal with the consequences of that knowledge.
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bronxboy55
September 10, 2010
I agree with you most of the time. As I said, the wish was for an occasional visit, not to erase the regrets but to relive the feelings that came before them — however briefly. I imagine this is one of the reasons people drink heavily or use mind-altering drugs. I’ve never done either of those things, because I know that whatever I was trying to escape would just be waiting for me right here when I got back. But a little taste of childhood innocence now and then? It sounds pretty nice. Maybe that’s what sleep is supposed to be for.
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cooperstownersincanada
September 10, 2010
I was born in 1973, so I missed the ’60s, but your piece is well-written and makes me want to experience the good events that happened in that decade. Of course, the baseball references add to the appeal of the article for me 🙂 A good number of those ’62 Dodgers played in Montreal at one point or another. Great work!
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bronxboy55
September 10, 2010
A few of those Dodgers ended up with the Mets, too, including Duke Snider. And you’re right: a lot of good things happened in the ’60s, even though it’s often described as a time of turmoil. Thanks, Kevin.
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Patricia
September 13, 2010
They say if you can remember the sixties you probably weren’t there lol 🙂
I do remember them as I was a teenager for part of it. JFK can remember where I was when we heard the news and Martin Luther King one of my heroes. Then there was the Beatles. My brother still says they were the greatest group ever. I’ll pass on that one.
Sometimes I would like to be 20 again and know what I know now but somehow it doesn’t work that way. Learning to leave the past behind, live in the present and look to the future. Has taken nearly a lifetime to learn that one.
BTW Hairspray the musical is being performed here in Australia in the next few months. Will be interesting to see what sort of reviews it gets.
Patricia Perth Australia
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bronxboy55
September 13, 2010
Thanks, Patricia. I would like to clarify: I did like “Hairspray.” The singing, dancing, and music were excellent. I think I expected too much from the storyline, which is the mistake I always make.
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eobonyo
February 8, 2014
Nice. 🙂
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bronxboy55
February 8, 2014
This is a very old post. I’m glad you liked it.
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