“Thankful” is a word we’ll hear a lot today. I’m thankful
for all the traditional reasons, but I am more thankful for being born a
baby-boomer.
I’m thankful I had an appreciation of our space program and
the first steps ever walked on the moon. For airlines with a meal served in
coach, the blanket and pillow, the metal wing pins given to kids, and the pilot
when he walked through the cabin and said hi to us all. For the narration of what
landmarks we flew over, and everyone’s interest in them because we weren’t
plugged into anything but the experience. So thankful my daughters could wait
for me at the gate with flowers when I got off the plane after being at an RWA
conference.
For all the real people who picked up when I called customer
service. For Blue Chip stamps and the family decision on what to cash them in
for—a new set of TV trays or bonnet hair dryer for my sister and I, for full
service gas stations that not only pumped your gas, but checked under the hood
and washed your windshield. Thankful that we knew eating out was a big time treat
that we appreciated.
I’m thankful for blue shimmer eye-shadow. Davey Jones and Pee-Chee
folders. Here Comes the Bride and
Bobby Sherman. For teachers who could give you a whack if you deserved it. For
never hearing the f-word in the school hallway. Grateful that I never wore my
pajama bottoms in public and thought it was okay. Disco, and rock and roll! For
sports stadiums not being named after corporations. Hot lunches that were a
splurge for my parents and thinking about which day of the week I would choose.
Friday fish-sticks and green beans. For appreciating the cucumber sandwich my
mom packed for me and the excitement of picking out a new lunch pail at the
beginning of the school year. For the vending machine in my high school that
only offered apples and no brand-name drinks or snacks. Mandatory P.E. with snap
button white blouses and school gym shorts, showers required afterward.
Corner mailboxes that my mother said, “Run down and drop this
letter in the mailbox for me.” Wearing rubber rain boots just like everyone
else, playground equipment without safety mats, wearing dresses to elementary
school, for Campfire Girls. For my friend’s mothers and fathers who I always
called Mr. or Mrs.
For summer vacation and the seasonal playing of Alice
Cooper’s “Schools out for Summer,” on all the AM stations. For the beach bus
that picked up us junior high kids in the Ralph’s parking lot and took us to
Santa Monica beach for the day. We didn’t have cellphones and our parents
trusted us to follow the bus driver’s rules, and we knew we must—or else.
Playing arcade games with Danny Bonaduce in Reseda. Centipede
and Pac Man, Pong on my friend’s television. Seeing Maureen McCormick shopping
in the Northridge Mall. My job at Warehouse Records and the thrill of stocking
cassettes for the first time next to 8-tracks. Being able to make out the
lyrics in songs. For the “5, 7 and 9 Shop”—when those sizes were actually
proportionate. Halter tops and hot pants. Vinyl go-go boots. Sbicca wedge
shoes, Wallabees, saddle shoes in elementary school. Dittos and flares.
For no answering machines, no call waiting, no caller ID.
For my corded blue princess phone. For transistor radios and KHJ Charlie Tuna.
For living the moment and putting the memory in your head and not taking
pictures of every random and ridiculous event and sending them to Snapchat or
Twitter. For never contemplating writing profanity anywhere, especially not for
my friends and family to read. So thankful for experiencing the anticipation of
having a roll of film developed. Beyond grateful to have so many print photos
rather than digital.
I’m thankful for mandatory high school home economics that
taught me to cook and sew, for playground recess twice a day. For eating lunch
outdoors under pavilions. For my mom never driving me to school because walking
the mile-plus was “good exercise.” Thankful that my dad had a steady job, and
my mom not having to work because she was so frugal budgeting my dad’s salary.
Fond memories of warm cookies and a glass of milk when I got home.
For the gold 1974 Plymouth Duster my dad gave me when I got
my driver’s license. I am grateful I was given a car for free. Thankful for
having to work for everything else I needed once I turned eighteen.
Disappointed with myself for not completing college when that was offered by my
parents at no cost. Big mistake. But thankful I have the talent to write a book
and that requires no degree. For brick and mortar bookstores, so many to choose
from way back when, and with booksellers who knew who you were.
I’m so very thankful I was born in 1958.
Every generation has a story. What’s yours? What are you
thankful about?
Stef Ann Holm
was born in Southern California near Hollywood. With the fantasy worlds of
Disneyland and Universal Studios at her doorstep, her imagination was
stimulated at an early age. She attended Chatsworth High where Kevin Spacey,
Mare Winningham and Val Kilmer entertained on the school’s stage. As a semester
elective, Stef Ann enrolled in drama and played a Fandango hostess in the
chorus of Sweet Charity. It was the beginning and the end of her acting and
singing career. She got a “C” in Drama and an “A” in Creative Writing.
She sold her first romance in 1987. Stef Ann has had twenty-four
novels and one novella published. She lives in Boise, Idaho with her
husband, extended family and her squirrel-crazy Yorkshire, Cocoa Puff.
2 comments:
Having been born in 1950, my list of grateful-fors pretty much mirrors yours. Nice to see you back. Happy Thanksgiving.
my first car was a 66 Chevy II I bought with my own money ($500). I had a blue transistor radio. I'm 9 years younger than you. ;)
Denise
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