Oh wow. The 60s are my favourite era, although I was born right at the end. To have been in the middle of it all must have been mind blowing. You really know how to hold us (readers) in your story.
It was mind blowing, Jo, even more than this first part suggests. If you haven't already, I hope you'll go on to part 2, where I explore that notion even more. Thanks for reading and enjoying!
Jay, this was wonderful. It's a bit like strange news from a distant star for me, coming as I do from rural south west England. Our only wind of change would have been a switch to a northerly that would bring the full fragrance of the slurry pit into the farmhouse. Anyway, you capture what appears to have been a manic time and place so evocatively.
Thanks, Jeffrey. I always appreciate your comments, and how interesting. You might be interested to know that my partner, Julia, who is only a couple of years older than I am, grew up in a small town in western Nebraska. She had some similar experiences in the 70s -- the pot smoking and rock music -- but the historic events passed the town kids by. Our mutual joke is that the 60s never made it to rural Nebraska.
I can well imagine Julia's experience. My part of England was always late to the party. I seem to remember from my history lessons at school that the south west of England was a staunch bastion against the Reformation. Decades later, they were staunchly supporting it when it came under threat. Plus ça change and all that.
Jay, just getting around to reading this. What memories you bring back. When I visited my son last March, I stayed in a beautiful restored inn on Haight St., my son in a place four blocks away, next door to the Church of the Eight Wheels. Definitely not the Haight district of the '60s. The kids hanging at the church had no idea. Our generation is the last to have experienced a decade or two of the kind you write about. The wonder of it all is that most of us came through it just fine.
Part of the experience of aging, as we both know, if we're lucky enough to age, is realizing that everyone doesn't remember or know everything you think everyone must remember and know. It's rewarding to tell those who don't, comforting to share with those who, like you, do.
I wouldn't choose to have been young at any other time, despite my soon-enough mixed feelings about the era -- and I almost didn't come through it just fine. (Though I did finally!) That's next week.
Oh wow. The 60s are my favourite era, although I was born right at the end. To have been in the middle of it all must have been mind blowing. You really know how to hold us (readers) in your story.
It was mind blowing, Jo, even more than this first part suggests. If you haven't already, I hope you'll go on to part 2, where I explore that notion even more. Thanks for reading and enjoying!
Part 2 is tonight's reading!
Same Vintage....well written and like you still weaving my way through "the Danger and Deliverance" ^..^
Welcome, then, compadre, and thanks. Keep on weaving and don't forget to bob, too, every now and then.
Jay, this was wonderful. It's a bit like strange news from a distant star for me, coming as I do from rural south west England. Our only wind of change would have been a switch to a northerly that would bring the full fragrance of the slurry pit into the farmhouse. Anyway, you capture what appears to have been a manic time and place so evocatively.
Thanks, Jeffrey. I always appreciate your comments, and how interesting. You might be interested to know that my partner, Julia, who is only a couple of years older than I am, grew up in a small town in western Nebraska. She had some similar experiences in the 70s -- the pot smoking and rock music -- but the historic events passed the town kids by. Our mutual joke is that the 60s never made it to rural Nebraska.
I can well imagine Julia's experience. My part of England was always late to the party. I seem to remember from my history lessons at school that the south west of England was a staunch bastion against the Reformation. Decades later, they were staunchly supporting it when it came under threat. Plus ça change and all that.
Oops. She's a couple of years *younger* than I am. Shh!
Mum's the word 😅
Jay, just getting around to reading this. What memories you bring back. When I visited my son last March, I stayed in a beautiful restored inn on Haight St., my son in a place four blocks away, next door to the Church of the Eight Wheels. Definitely not the Haight district of the '60s. The kids hanging at the church had no idea. Our generation is the last to have experienced a decade or two of the kind you write about. The wonder of it all is that most of us came through it just fine.
Part of the experience of aging, as we both know, if we're lucky enough to age, is realizing that everyone doesn't remember or know everything you think everyone must remember and know. It's rewarding to tell those who don't, comforting to share with those who, like you, do.
I wouldn't choose to have been young at any other time, despite my soon-enough mixed feelings about the era -- and I almost didn't come through it just fine. (Though I did finally!) That's next week.