'68 was the year dad finally finished the house, so we could move out of the garage. A flush toilet at last! Mrs Price was my teacher and I got 10 out of 10 for every test except spelling (I got 9.5 because I spelt Mum as 'Mom' - too many American comic books). We still didn't have a TV and I don't remember music, except maybe the Unicorn song by the Irish Rovers. I do remember mum listened to Sammy Sparrow (a character on breakfast radio).
The past is another country.
I was an art student, leading a fairly giddy life. And madly in love with my special little painter friend who used to read E E Cummings poems to me in parks & other places.
Life offered endless possibilities. What would we choose? We were all going to save the world. Things would be different now, surely ...
I turned 18 a month after I joined the job on April Fool's Day (auspicious I thought). Little did I know but I was trading in my last teenage years. I had to behave myself. Damnit.
I got divorced that year...and did my first doob!
Took flying lessons...and began several decades of just enjoying myself and "not giving a damn."
I'm still at it...and it has all worked out very, very well.
I was a wee teenybopper, year my mum died, I began to get political, watching Abby Hoffmann on trial, loved Bookends, Paris revolts complete with Simone and Sartre, kids across the world felt part of a new culture and truly connected.
Waaaaay too young for drugs and such!
The summer of '68.
I was a lifeguard in love with a cute little lifeguard named Deb.
One day I saw a child standing at the bottom of the pool and jumped in to pull him out. All adrenaline and automatic responses. I held him by his feet and smacked him until he started breathing again.
Started getting stomach pains in August and ended up in the hospital with appendicitis.
Still weak and sewed up I boarded a TWA flight for Heathrow to begin my A Level studies.
Little did I know that I wouldn't be back for 3 long years.
i was 5 years old, 6 before the year ended, not much more i can say really
I was born in 85' but I could tell you stories about my mom :-)
<good to see Roberta>
CLady, tell us about your mom..
I think she was born in 62' which would have made her 6 in 68' and my aunt would have been 7, they lived on an air base in michigan with my grandparents... my grandfather was in the Navy... They didn't have much money at the time either.. My grandparents would have been in their late 20's and she may have already had one of my uncles, he would have been maybe 2 or 3... and I bet she was pregnant with he last child, another boy... yup I just asked my mom.... my aunt was born in 61', mom 62', first uncle 65' and last uncle 69'
I remember the stories they told me when I was younger!!
i was 3 in '68.
can't remember a thing... except vague images of us moving from one apartment to another on the same floor -- the apartment my folks have called home for the past 37 years
'69, on the other hand -- don't get me started!
I turned 11 in 1968.
Seems to me there are a lot of photos from that year.
I wanted to be a hippie and embroider my pants.
mrs. hamburger wouldn't let me.
so I drew flowers on my pants with my oil pastels.
What a rebel
you sure showed them, beth!
68, let's see. prague spring, then invasion of the 'friendly' armies of the warsaw pact, parents sacked from the party and from their jobs. not a grand year. i wasn't even in the plans yet.
Oh my, I remember the Prague Spring, and how awful the end was.....sigh...
Several notable awful things happened that year.
I remember coming down for breakfast to hear my father say, "Robert Kennedy's shot." Dad was a racist and hated the Kennedy's. I thought he was talking about RFK's chances in the election. It had been a very hot topic of debate between the two of us. With eyes still fuzzy from sleep I said, "Well, whatever happened, I'm sure you're happy." My father looked horrified as he explained that he meant it literally...the man had been shot. He was very upset about it. That was my first lesson that people with whom I differed politically were still capable of profound civility.
More is coming back to me. I took my first trip to Europe in '68. I left for Rome the day Robert Kennedy's body was being returned to NY. Very tense at the airport.
I participated in a few marches. I still can't remember what music I was listening to.
Probably "We Shall Overcome," Roberta.
I remember the day after Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated, we were released from school early and told to go home immediately. Not too far away, the news of his death led to rioting in the inner city. A curfew was set and we were not allowed on the street after 9pm.
