I am quite typical for an American “baby boomer”. I was born in the 1950’s, and I grew up in the 1960’s and 1970’s. I graduated from High School in 1977.
So, yes the movie “Dazed and Confused”which took place during Junior year in 1976 actually described what my High School life was like.

I was born into the “Space Age”, and all of us were rushing to get into space. You know, we just had to best those pesky “Commies”. As such, and to help clarify the world at that time, consider our culture.
During that time there were two predominant themes in American media; [1] fight communism, and [2] explore space.

Bombarded with popular television shows that either depicted smiling soldiers joyously bayoneting dastardly communists, or shows about adventures in the deep reaches of space, we were provided with choices on our futures.

I, like many of my generation, fully wanted to be one of elite; an astronaut.

Those who wanted to go to war eventually either enlisted in the military or went into politics. Luckily, the current crop of war-mongering power-hungry elitists are being phased out. They are either retiring, dying off, or mending their nests in Congress.

Going into space was the more difficult path.

It looked so easy on television. You go to the recruiting office and signed up for the “Space Patrol”. Then, you were “in”. It was just a matter of having the brains and the stamina to persevere. But you know, it’s not that easy a thing to do.

Especially, most especially,  if you came from the hills of Western Pennsylvania.

I am a normal guy.

While I was born in the Connecticut Valley in Bridgeport, CT, I spent the bulk of my youth and High School years in the Pittsburgh area.  Pittsburgh was, at that time, the center of steel manufacturing.  Surrounding it were miles and miles of coalmines, and timber.
America is a very big nation, and as such, it is culturally subdivided into regions. I was part of the Pittsburgh (or “Western Pennsylvania”) region.
I was an “Iron Steel Baby” (So named because of the local “Iron City” beer and the steel mills up and down the major rivers in the region.).

Over the years I have lived in many other areas. Each area was very different.
I have lived in the Central Florida, the Rio Grande, the Los Angles, the Fresno, the Memphis-Little Rock, the Louisville, the Cincinnati, the Indianapolis, the Upstate NY and the Boston New England regional areas. I wonder what cultural enclave that you, the reader, is from?

When I was little, my father worked in a steel mill. To improve our life, he would go to night school. Eventually, he was able to get his diploma and degree. With that, he was able to get a better job, and we moved into a house that he was finally able to buy.
My mother was a housewife, and she watched us kids.

I played “cops and robbers” and “cowboys and Indians” when I was little.  I played with fireworks, climbed cliffs and jumped off them into muddy water in the long hot summers.
We would often put a penny on railroad tracks to watch the coal cars flatten it into a long oval copper plate. You can’t really do that with pennies today. That is because pennies are made out of plastic. Instead you can use a dime or a nickel.
Both of these coins have a high percentage of copper in it.

Busybodies think that flattening a penny is not safe, and is dangerous to children. (Not everyone shares my point of view.  HERE is an article where it is considered the height of danger and folly to walk on train tracks. HERE is an article that says that it is terribly DANGEROUS and maybe evil to even suggest children participate in such a thing.) But you know what? I don’t care what they think. I personally like the Chinese solution when it comes to these busybodies.

I had a “tree house” that I would hang out in with my cat Sedgwick, and played “tug of war” under the willow tree with my pet husky and a big “bull rope” that hung down from one of the limbs. (This is an awesome tree that had flowing branches that fell to the ground.
You could go inside the tree and it was like you were inside a tent. Though in the spring, it was filled with bees and other insects attracted to the flowers.)

I had a “fifth finger toy gun”. It looked like a pointing finger, and it shot this little plastic pellet.  I also had this “joy buzzer” that you could “shock” your friends with (by giving them a handshake).
Other toys included “Chinese handcuffs”, which was this woven contraption that you would stick on the ends of your fingers.

We played “quicksand”, usually holding on to tree limbs and trying to avoid touching the sidewalk. (It, like many other things, turned out not to be as serious a threat that we thought it was when we “grew up”.) Talk about a disappointment!

Yeah. When we grew up we were in for some surprises…

The world that we envisioned was nothing like what we saw on television.  We never got to fight secret agents. The rocket ships to the stars never materialized. None of us ever got to tour the nation in a multicolored school bus and play musical numbers in different high schools . Our friends were never as organized as Spanky and his gang , and we never were able to harness a donkey with a carrot. That truly would have been awesome! The truth is, to this day, I have never come across a spot of quicksand.  What a shame.  What a true shame.

However, the reader need not give up hope on their childhood. There still is a Archie McPhee . Thank God for that!

Consider my kid sister.

I have a niece who is a girly-girl. She loves clothes. One Easter Sunday my mother bought her this really nice Easter dress. My sister, totally hated it, and did not want the girls (I have numerous nieces) to have anything to do with it. However, my nieces, being strong willed, went out and got the dresses out from the closet anyways.
The oldest niece, well she was a “Tomboy”, and refused to wear the dress that was bought for her. However, the girly-girl niece grabbed her dress and ran through the house with it.

As she ran, her socks went off. Her shoes went off. Her pants came off, then her top. She shinnied on the dress and went running outside in the yard in bare feet. The dress flying in bright white, and pink with ribbons floating. She ran, jumped, and leaped.
She was the happiest girl in the entire world at that moment. She was totally absorbed in living that moment.

You just had to see it. The sky was blue and clear. The air was cool but sunny. The grass was a fresh lush green and the girl with her rosy happy smile on her fantastic sunny face was a picture of the Sun itself. Ah, such a very wonderful time, and a wonderful day…

As I said. Let the children play.

Things were different then compared to today.

I first went to parochial school, and then later, attended public school. In parochial school we were taught how to write in cursive, memorized poetry, studied basic Latin, learned how to perform mathematics using only a paper and pencil, and studied our collective history.
Indeed, when I attended school we learned history, and we were expected to understand it well enough to write a paper on it.  In fact, one of the seemingly yearly events all through middle school into my high school years was writing a paper on history. Sadly, that is no longer the case. Ah, history can tell us so much, and can be a real joy to read about if taught properly.

History has continued to be one of my favorite interests. I personally think that many people don’t know anything about history because it is really not being taught properly.

Every weekend we would visit our grandparents. There, we would often sit on the metal porch glider and have bottled soda and cold-cut sandwiches. Both of my grandparents would buy a case of soda in large glass bottles, and I would spend my entire visit drinking it. It would normally be placed in the cellar.
That was a cool spot in the house, and it kept the soda cool, but not cold. As is typical for the Pittsburgh area, the basement had a commode located smack dab in the middle of the basement. It’s a Pittsburgh thing that I could never quite figure out.
(Same with the idea of putting chairs in front of the house to reserve a parking space.)

Adults could drink their fill of beer. We always had beer in various old refrigerators, or boxes full of ice. When I started to work, at 14, my father figured that I was going to work like a man, then I could be treated as one as well.
From that moment on, I was able to drink beer at all the family gatherings. Which was pretty cool. I was able to get tipsy, and then go to my room to sleep it off without making a scene.

My childhood was all about learning how to be a MAN.

The television was often on with a sports program or two in the background. They, of course, had a large picture of the “Last Supper” on the kitchen wall overlooking the table there. In fact, just about all of my friends had a similar picture. Today, I rarely see it, and absolutely NO television shows have this symbol of Americana displayed. We also had a painting of the “black Madonna” on the wall near the fireplace, and a statue of the Mother Mary in prayer inside a half buried cast iron bathtub in the back yard.

We ate well, and my mother insisted that we have fresh milk every day.

Fresh milk was delivered to our porch daily. It sat inside a small-galvanized metal box cooler specifically designed for that purpose.  It was delivered early in the morning and one of the routines was for my mother to fetch the milk and put it in the refrigerator promptly.
The bill (for the milk) was left in an envelope inside the metal cooler box, and my parents would put money in the envelope inside the box to pay for the milk. It was a system that worked well then. I wonder how it would work today.

From the time I was five years old I needed to pull my weight at the house. I had chores.

I would use a push lawn mower on the weekends to mow our grass (with no breaks until I was finished), and rake the leaves in the fall (with a break drinking apple cider).  No respite during the seasons, as I even had to shovel the snow in winter (with a break drinking egg nog on Christmas Day). (Such was the life of a typical boy in the 1970’s.) Us boys all had chores that we had to finish before we could go out and “play”. When we became old enough, typically 16 years old, we went and got our first job working for someone else.
It was what you did if you were a male boy. (Eh. I started at 14, as my father insisted that work would make me into a man.) So, I went to school until it ended, and then off to work from 4 to 9 every evening. Most of my life consisted of 12 to 14 hour shifts at work.

So, of course, I am going to take offense at the idea that I had “white male privilege”. And, I really get more than just a little hot under the collar when some female SWJ tries to make that point.
There was no “white male privilege” in scrubbing out the filthy toilets in a coal mine, getting covered with dirty grease while you climb up a dragline, or being dressed down just because you are young and don’t know anything yet.

I was a typical boy. While many of my friends got to play football and other sports, I worked. I was bred to be a great work horse. That was the experience of boys of my generation. The experience of girls was quite different.

Girls were treated differently. My sisters all got weekly allowances.  This enabled them to go out with their other friends and buy the latest fashions.
They were all members of the various cheerleader organizations, and participated in all the local events sponsored by the school.

In my early school years (grades 1 through 3), I attended private parochial (Catholic) schools.  They offered and provided a superior education compared to the public schools that I attended afterwards.  I learned the Latin language as well as my English grammar.
In fact, one of my most significant “loves” was introduced to me in first grade.

Here we were told (forced) to memorize poetry. (Oh, and boy did I hate it at the time. I would cry and cry. My father would record my complaints and play them back to me. Oh, I hated it. I HATED it.) Now, today, I really appreciate that memorization.
I memorized Robert Frost, and Taylor Coleridge.

These are poems that I have NEVER forgotten.

There is a certain timelessness about this poem. I always loved the sound of it, but it wasn’t until I was much older did I appreciate the meaning. You know, when you are in elementary school, you haven’t lived long enough to experience decisions and consequences.
However, when you are older, that is something else altogether. Today, the poem speaks to me like no book or movie can. And that is what poetry is all about.

The poem speaks to me personally. I can well guess that it might speak to you (the reader) as well. We have chosen paths that other people didn’t. They took us to interesting places. They have altered our lives in ways… special and significant ways.

Here is another timeless poem by Robert Frost;

Poems are wonderful. Now that I am older I really appreciate all the effort that the nuns made to force me to learn these poems.

Girls never seemed to care that I could recite poems. So it really wasn’t an issue about getting chicks. The girls of High School seemed only to care about the football players, and hot cars. The poems made a difference in my life when I got older.
Then, the complexities of live began to take its toll, and it was poetry that became my refuge when the world spiraled out of control.

Whenever I am stressed at work, and there is some just outlandish and power crazed manager spouting nonsense (remember I worked in a corporate environment during the 1980’s and 1990’s), I would stand off to the side and recite a poem or two. It calmed me down.
Because, no matter what role my boss would have, and no matter if he controlled my income, I could recite poetry, and he simply could not.

That fact always put a smile on my face and comforted me.

It also ended up being a great way to “break the ice” in China. I would offer a toast. Then, I would recite a poem. The Chinese, especially the English speaking ones, are always absolutely amazed. As are the beautiful Chinese ladies.
Chinese poetry is different, but just as beautiful.

Not one American intern, boys or girls, could recite a poem. Any poem. What in the heck do they teach at schools today? Many times, but not all, they do not even know a poem or could name one. What a sad, sad, state of affairs. It is almost like a part of their life is missing…

Just for fun, let’s see if you (the reader) can take a simple 8th grade level test from 1912. Now this is from 1912. This is the kind of test that our grandparents, or in some cases, our great-grandparents took. My parents were constantly harping on how the educational system was dumbing down. Moreover, that was in 1960! One can only imagine what they would think of schools today.

Now, I have passed this test on to my (senior-year university) interns, and they constantly fail it. They justify their failure.
Which is something that I teach them NOT to do, and thus the reason for having the interns take the test. Their excuses range from “the computer spell checks for me”, “I don’t need to know trivia”, to “that’s why Wikipedia exists.” Sigh.

Let’s see how you, the reader, can do…

The test begins with a spelling exam. The teacher would recite each of the following words. They would recite it three times. The student taking the test would then need to spell the words correctly. There are forty words in total.

Math and Reading questions from the 1912 eighth grade test.

You can find the answers to this test on this page HERE. Now, compare that with eighth grade students today.

We wrote in script, and printing out answers was discouraged (and frowned upon). A measure of one’s ability to communicate was penmanship. (Indeed, there is a scientific correlation between writing in script, poetry and improved thinking processes.

This was something, I believe, that gave me advantage over my public-school educated peers.)

When the New Year was upon us, we would go out and buy a “Farmer’s Almanac”. It was filled with all sorts of interesting things.  However, I believe that my mother would use it as a guide as to when we should till the earth, and plant our garden. It is still being printed. Thank God!

We wore bell-bottoms and nylon shirts with big-puffy sleeves, and wide collars.  I  also wore a tight collar around my neck made out of white beads. It was called a “choke collar”.

I was a cub scout up until I entered my teenage years.  Every week we would attend meetings in the homes of one of the scout mothers (called “Den Mothers”), and they would help us work on our “badges”, and get ready for the various events.
These events included picnics, hikes, plays and social get togethers.  We would proudly wear our uniform during parades, or on holidays like the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, or Labor Day.
We would salute the flag in school and lead the Pledge of Allegiance at school in the mornings. (Big change from today, when you have multi-millionaire NFL stars refusing to stand for the US Flag. I find it completely reprehensible and disgusting.
But, then I am from the “old school”.)

One of the first things that I got when I joined the Cub Scouts was a blue uniform.  I well remember my mother teaching me how to put on my yellow scarf.  In addition, I got to have my very own hand axe.  It was a Rite of Passage for me.
Here at seven years old, I could carry a hand axe.  I was taught how to use it to cut trees, and how to throw it (just in case I might come across some desperate Indians…).

While I went to elementary school in the 1960’s, it was my experiences during the 1970’s, which influenced my personality. Indeed, it is my feelings and experiences that reflect that period in time.

Through most of my high school years, I wore “bell bottom” pants, and wide-collared polyester shirts. Our biggest source of entertainment was our television.
We listened to the radio, and for me I would read or build plastic models in my bedroom while listening to FM radio on my “mult-band” radio receiver. At that time,  listened to WYDD, which was the “alternative radio” of the day.
I also had a “Lava lamp” that was given to my father by a drunk friend who stole it out of a bar and didn’t know what to do with it.

We drank Orange Crush soda, along with Tab, Sprite and 7up. Our parents would drive to the “State Store” or “Beer Distributor” to buy the booze for the week.  In Pennsylvania, the government had a monopoly on the distribution of alcohol.
I guess that they reasoned that it would better” protect” the people of the commonwealth, or maybe they justified it by promising to fix the roads (snort!). Still promising (from what I gather from friends and family).  Yep.
One day the “potholes” all over the Pennsylvania roads will get fixed.  Yessur.

For me, there just wasn’t that many opportunities. I lived in a small town on the banks of the Allegheny river. Pittsburgh was a two hour drive away.

So I did what I could.

I took heavy science courses. I studied a foreign language in detail. I would study hard and then would work hard. Saving up every single penny that I earned so that I could attend college.

You know, it wasn’t easy getting a scholarship and at that time, loans were not so easy to get. Then, as now, you needed “political pull” to be able to qualify for the few opportunities for financial support.

So, in those days, I had to pay for the schooling myself. While my parents helped (a lot), I still needed to support myself.

Yes, I studied hard. I worked hard, and I saved up all of my money so I could go to college.

Yes it’s true, I studied hard.

In fact, I was at the top of my class in everything. Well, everything except gym class.

(That was because I worked after school and thus could not participate in "extracurricular activities". Thus my grades for "gym class" were always "B's". That grade, on a report card, of all "A's" was a stain on my otherwise perfect scholastic efforts.)

But, you see, I had to work.

I needed to pay for my secondary education, and I needed to be able to sleep in a dorm and eat food. Though, for a while it was “touch and go” with tomato soup and ramen noodles with peanut butter.

I did work hard.

I really did. I worked in the coal mines, labored in the steel mills and took a hell of a lot of shit from assholes to achieve my dream. I was the young kid, and I ended doing all the “dirty” and grunt work in the mines. It was not fun and certainly not pleasant.
But I was able to save, and I was able to get accepted in a major university.

My sisters were cheerleaders in school.  All my friends played High School football.  I didn’t. I had to work. My parents were pretty unique in that regard. Most of my classmates got to have fun playing football, basketball, or baseball.
However, my father strongly felt that I needed to be a man, and that meant that instead of playing after school, I should learn how to work and to provide for a family.  Well, in a way he was right. But, in a way he was wrong too.

Anyways, to my father, sports were just a game. You couldn’t really make any money off of it. Though, a decade later, my classmate Jim Kelly sure as heck was raking in some real money being a football quarterback. Ah, but that’s a story for another time…

Sports were more about social interaction than play. And, work, well… my history strongly indicates a disconnect from the traditional working models in favor of a debt-slave relationship to a powerful person or group.  But… more about that later…

My favorite time during high school was during “study hall”. There, if we had finished our homework, we could participate in other activities.
There wasn’t much at our school, but my two favorite activities were weight lifting (at the high school “Universal Gym”), and “square dancing”. There, believe it or not, the girls would come over and ask and invite me to join them dancing.
It was great because there were only a precious few boys who would go dancing with the girls. LOL.

Overall, I had a great childhood.  I grew up in the 1960s and attended high school in the 1970s. It was a great time, and not at all what is portrayed in conventional American media today  (as a time of “racism and bigotry”).
It was a time of family values, productivity, and freedom. Black, white, yellow and red.  We were all Americans.

All of us lived, more or less, the same lifestyle. (Don’t believe me? Go to your grandmother’s house and go through her family albums of photographs.)  Our fathers worked.  Our mothers stayed home and tended to the house, the budget, and us kids.

That was at a point in time before the Federal Reserve still hadn’t completely decimated the US Dollar. It was still worth around twenty cents. As the dollar kept on losing value, both parents needed to go to work. This fact, forced the breakup of the American family.
The family had to break up, as the mother had to work as well as the father.

There is a lot of debate on this particular quote. You can look at watch the sparks fly as the debate a rages on. Oh, my goodness! It is all so silly! One side says “here is the quote”, and the other side goes “Oh, No no no. He never said it! It’s all revisionist history.
The Income Tax was wonderful!” It really is silly.

Here is my take.

The value of the USD (United States Dollar) was pretty stable. It had it’s ups and downs, but for the most part it was pretty consistent. It was stable. Then, after the passage of the 16th Amendment, the value of the USD dropped like a stone. It plummeted to 50% of its value within a ten-year span of time. It dropped 50% in a decade. That is horrifying!

Only a fucking idiot wouldn’t regret the decision to establish the Federal Reserve.

You have a fairly stable dollar. Some “friends” and “associates” convince you to change the system that is working just fine, and replace it with a different system. So, low and behold, you put a new banking system in place.
Then suddenly, right before your eyes, the value of the dollar collapses. It goes completely to shit. Every year it gets worse and worse!

So…

[1] So, ok, maybe the former President didn’t say that quote. If so, then he was a fucking idiot. He was evil and selfish and couldn’t read a simple chart. That is the only conclusion that you can come to, if this quote did not belong to him. Because that is, what the statists are arguing. They are saying that the President was just fine and dandy and happy with what happened with the imposition of the Income tax and the Federal Reserve. He saw the result of the change, he saw the value of the dollar collapse, and agreed that it was all good and well.

[2] If the quote is indeed accurate, then he is a normal person who is able to read charts, and ended up with regrets. This is what a normal and sane person would be. They would see that what they put in place went to complete shit. This would be what a normal person would do. Personally, I can live both concepts. And you, the reader, should as well.

Anyways, with the collapse of the USD, now everything became more and more expensive. Both parents now had to go to work.

Both parents now had to go to work. As such, there were periods of no parental supervision after school.  That is how American society began to fracture. The parents were absent and replaced by the reality as portrayed by television, and narrated by the people in power.

As such, we LOST many of the important things that really mattered to families. We lost such things as “jobs for everyone”, the ability to save, and formal family meals.

At the end of the day we had formal “sit-down” meals where we would all gather around a multi-dish meal and discuss the events of the day. We kids would talk about the events in school, and our parents would talk about their day. My father would sit at the head of the table. Then, once the meal was complete, we would retire with some coffee and ice cream, and us kids would clean the table and do the dishes. Dinners were great. It was one of the things that I miss most from my childhood.

At that time, in both the 1960s and 1970s,  it was important to participate in your family. It was important to participate in your school.  It was important to participate in local events, and to become a meaningful participant in society.
My, how quaint and outdated that seems today.

Fashions come and go. But I always had a fondness for tube-tops, bell bottoms, and those two zipper front jeans that the girls used to wear. The tube-tops showed off the soft curves , and the “painted on” jeans showed off why guys like to look at girls.
For a while, platform shoes were very popular, and I ended up having a pair that made me feel like Richie Blackmore on the stage.

We loved our cars.

My buddies cruised around in (decked out) “shag carpeted interior” Camaro’s, old Ford and Chevy pickup trucks (Usually with a cooler full of beer in the back and empty beer cans rolling about on the deck.), and a (periodically) roofless International Harvester Scout.
We drove around in my decked out GTO known affectionately as “the goat” that we might race on “the flats”.

If the reader wants to know what it was like going to High School in that beast, watch the opening credits to the movie “Dazed and Confused”. Same. You’ll see my old car cruising into the High School parking lot. Otherwise listen to Kid Rock’s “First Kiss”.

Yeah, this was me…

My brother drove a Vega (the aluminum engine block nightmare) named the “solar boat” from a song of the same name by Ray Manzarek. He had the old engine removed and replaced it with a “sooped up” 360. I had friends who drove a Pinto (a plain but long lasting vehicle).  And when my GTO died of a car crash (an icy Pennsylvania bridge in March), I replaced it with a AMC Pacer (it was like riding around in a big epic glass greenhouse). 

It was a step sideways. Financially, I could only afford what I could buy with the insurance money. So, for a while I rode a Yamaha 250cc motorcycle (also orange!) and then got the pacer. (I needed money for college. It was a matter of priorities.)

Automobiles were a big part of our life back then.  In fact, unless you had your own car, it would be pretty difficult to get a date.  (It could happen, but it was much harder.)

We would typically work and use the money to buy a car and “fix it up”. Then, once the car was able to be driven, we would go “cruising”.  At that time, We would travel the back roads and highways of Western Pennsylvania and the mountains of West Virginia.

Often we would do so with the music “cranked up” loud.

Perhaps the premium “cruising” music of the day was “Boston” (“More than a feeling”), Pink Floyd (“Another Brick in the Wall”, “Money“, and “Time”), Led Zeppelin (“Stairway to Heaven”) and Peter Frampton (“Do you feel like we do?”). The trunk was a mobile ice cooler. We would fill it with bags of ice, and put two or three cases of beer there. We drank anything that we could get our hands on. Most of my friends drank Miller (in eight-pack pony bottles), Budweiser, and Iron City Beer.

At the time I was in my Senior Year in High School, vans were just getting really popular. Here, we would fully deck out the interiors into these mobile party machines.
They would have shag carpeting inside, red mood lighting, comfortable seats, a kick-ass stereo and a big cooler of beer. Dodge and Chevy vans were the most popular.

While movies might give the impression that, the youth of my generation went to discos all the time, and acted like John Travolta, that was not really the case.
(That was the case for many urban youth, but it was not at all representative of the whole.) We pretty much worked part time jobs to support our on-going obsession with our cars.
Each paycheck was devoted to a new “cherry bomb” muffler, or a custom carburetor, or some nice rims for our cars.  Then, all fixed up, we would cruse the roads.  We lived the life of the movie “Dazed and Confused”, as that was a very accurate portrayal of my generation.

This love of cars was not limited to white kids in the country. Everyone loved their cars.  In the cities, such as Syracuse and Pittsburgh, urban blacks would spend all their hard earnings to buy the best and biggest Lincoln or Cadillac available.
Then they would deck them out (or “pimp” them out) into the most elaborate super-cool riding coaches. They sure had style back then. Those were the days for certain.

Not to mention REAL music.

It was a time of funk. Let me tell you all, modern music just doesn’t have that kind of free wheeling happiness, and muscle moving music as the funk of the 1970s did. Indeed, it was a really sad day when people started to talk about the death of funk. Though there are those who somehow think that modern music is just an advanced style of funk. I happen to disagree.

And that is my opinion on this matter.

One hobby that we loved to do was go “dirt biking” which involved a specialized motorcycle that was specifically designed for “off road” use. It would not have a head light or turn signals, and would be lighter.
We would ride these “beasts” up and down all through the woods and the “boney dumps” (strip mined regions devoid of trees). Good times. We just “kicked it up in the sticks”. Why is everything so kid-safe today?

I had many friends who had pickup trucks.  Typically they were older vehicles with many dents, dings and rusty panels. At that time, CB Radios were very popular.  It would be on and we would listen for “Smokey Alerts” (Police Traps). Another fun activity was to go “mud slingin’”.
Here, we would often take a “beater” truck and run through the local bogs and swamps with it.  As one could expect, the truck would “sling mud” everywhere. We would often keep a cooler of beer in the back (Typically in cans.
Our parents drank from bottles.), and drink and party to loud rock music, or (yes) country music.

Here’s a plug for Donald Ray Williams who died on September 8, 2017.

Gas was cheap. Food was cheaper. A dollar could buy you five McDonalds hamburgers, while a music album would cost you $20 (though, it might only have eight songs on it).

I well remember the first time that I got a job.  I had just turned 14. It was in the local grocery store, and I was hired at minimum wage to stock shelves and bag groceries.  I used to wear a white short sleeved shirt and a red bow tie.  Over this, I wore an apron.
My hair must be over my ears and not touch my collar. No face hair was permitted.

I was ready for my first job. However, before I could work, I needed to get a “social security” number.  Here is my experience about that event…

I asked my father, why do I need a social security number?  His response was, you need it because you need to save some money away for when you get old.  This will help you accomplish that.

We were riding in the car, and as we crossed over the East Brady bridge I looked at him, and asked him; “OK, I understand.  But, why does the United States government have to do this?  Can’t I just save the money on my own?”

He just shook his head.  “This is the way it is son.  You have to give part of your money away to the government.  They know better than you do, and they will take care of you when you get older…”

My trustworthy father told me the way things work in the United States. He said the United States government will take care of ME when I get older…

I AM older.  My government ain’t doin’ JACK SHIT.

It was my father’s generation, and his father’s generation that got us in the financial position that the United States is in today.  Reread his answer.  At the time… he really…REALLY believed what he told me.
He was a life-long Democrat, and to the day he died he could not understand why, with all the taxes being collected, that the government could not (or would not) help the common citizen.

Back then, taxes were much lower than they are today. Yet, I well remember my surprise when I received my first paycheck.  I expected to be paid in full, and was surprised at the size of the amount deduced from my paycheck…

It didn’t matter what job I was doing, the taxes always had to be set aside. No matter what the media said, I just never was able to get any of the “freebies” (reference law#40 on the 48 Laws of Power)  and deductions that was promised to me.

Later, when I worked in the coal mines, there was talk about credits for solar panels. Even President Jimmy Carter put solar panels in the White House. But, that credit was not for me.

Then, when I was working in the steel mills, our union steward told us that if we voted Democrat that we could pretty much guarantee a lifetime pension and a great future for ourselves and our families. That never materialized either. My father was particularly upset with this change of events. Sigh.

When we were on the Forest Fire Crew, we would discuss the “rebates” that were promised to us by (then President) Jimmy Carter.  Nah. They NEVER materialized. Maybe some privileged group or major Democrat voting block got some, but we never saw anything.
I guess that we weren’t important enough, or maybe it was because we just didn’t complain loud enough.

When I watch the news today, I can well see why those in power don’t want the youth of today to read and know their history. They want to keep them fat, dumb and stupid.

As I get older, I can plainly see the same old “bag of tricks” being recycled for use on an ignorant public. Yeah… yeah…. Vote Democrat and we will fix everything this time. You can trust us! Yah… yeah…

If you speak out of line, or don’t follow the official script, you are “off the reservation“, and will be attacked. Look at what is going on with Kayne when he does not follow the script.

Oh, and the Republicans are just as bad. Don’t think that they are going to get a free pass from me. In my mind they are every bit as bad as the Democrats. But at least they are pretending to try.
The fact is that both Republicans and Democrats are working from the exact same playbook; Rule # 31 & 32 of the 48 laws of power.

Then, college was where an intelligent and scholarly person would migrate to after high school. At that time, only a few people could afford to go to college, and they were very picky as to whom they would select.  At that time, the wealthiest, and the smartest went to college.
Then, after the implementation of the G.I. bill, room was made for those who earned their “place at the table” through merit (risking their lives in war).
Thus, obtaining a college degree was significant and factored large in the overall standard of living that one could hope for.

That is totally the opposite of what college is today, where EVERYONE can get a college degree.  It is  where the content of the degree is so watered down as to become meaningless.
It is where those people whom graduate have to fight a flood of entry-level applicants for a scarce few positions. It hardly seems worth the time, and doesn’t seem to be worth the money, or the investment.

That is because, today, it just isn’t worth it. Looking at the big picture, it is almost like colleges and universities have become large institutions that turn young people into debt slaves – serfs.
Unless they quickly obtain a high paying position, they might never leave that role.

Maybe that is the reason why President Obama made college so accessible… I wonder… Using it [1] as a propaganda machine, and [2] to turn the majority of the educated American masses into debt slaves.

For more links on this subject;

I went to college, as that was what young upwardly mobile families did in the 1960’s and 1970’s. For me, I had always wanted to be an astronaut. My only way to become one was through hard discipline, a strong technical background, and a clear vision.