Where to start?
My parents must have relaxed or lost their minds by the time I came along, because they bought me the BB gun I requested at age 5.

It's not as if they didn't recognize the potential for disaster. My older brother had shot my mother in the backside with one years before, leaving a permanent scar.
They also got me the highly coveted BLUE Easy Bake oven long before the recommended age of 8, dangerous lightbulb and all. I have repeated this tradition with DD, but must mention they not longer have lightbulbs.
Dolls......I had the auburn haired Chrissy doll whose hair grew. She lost most of it in an incense fire. Don't ask.

I had Baby First Step. She had a face like Chuckie and walked like Frankenstein, but I loved her. Baby Tippy Toes was similar, but easier on the eyes. I had a Staci doll (Barbie's British friend) who said things like, "I think mini skirts are smashing." My friend had a Mrs. Beasley doll that creeped me out. When I spent the night with her, I turned that thing around or put in the closet before I went to bed. My Ken doll had plastic hair.
I had the Trixie Belden mystery series. I think she was a poor relation to Nancy Drew.

I lived for my mother to receive her McCall's magazines, because every few months, it had a Betsy McCall paper doll and doll clothes in it.
My mother took my sister and me to see Gone with the Wind when I was in first grade because it was re-released for the first time in YEARS. Clark Gable made an impression even then.

I've been a GWTW fan ever since. I was a Trekkie before they were called that and was thrilled to meet Gene Rodenberry in college. I watched The Wonderful World of Disney every week, but didn't go see Disney movies that much. I was more into Dark Shadows movies (never missed the TV shows.....Oooh, that David Selby) and Planet of the Apes movies.

I even had the Dark Shadows board game. My parents did not know what to make of this. I blame it on the BB gun.
I was so happy when straight hair went out and Farrah hair came in. My naturally curly hair could do Farrah proud. Before that, we wore hip huggers like every one else, but in my neck of the woods, we called them peanut pants. The favorite brand we wore had peanuts on the THREE snaps....too short for a zipper....so that's what we called them. I remember the platform shoes with fish in them, but never had any. How cruel were those???
By the time I was born, the Vietnam War was well under way. It took up a big part of the news and my family watched the news every night. It was years before that war ended and my mind somehow almost thought the news was pretty much The Vietnam Report with a little weather and a few miscellaneous stories thrown in. When it did end, it was strange to hear something else on the news. It had been Vietnam my whole life. My brother was considerably older and he was of draft age. But he had a health issue and my parents seemed almost thankful for that. It was not life-threatening, but no one would ever send him to combat. I remember watching the draft lottery and not understanding that having your number (birthday) called early (getting a low number) was a BAD thing.

To me, having your number called was like winning a prize. My brother was friends with a bunch of brothers...probably 5 of them were draft eligible, due to multiples. Some were watching the draft with us when their brother's number was called and they all got quiet and said, "That's _____'s birthday." I said something like, "He won, he won," not realizing their brother was heading off for 4 years in Vietnam. Luckily, he came home.
On a lighter note, my parents hauled a friend and me to see KC and the Sunshine Band. I think I was in jr. high. By a fluke, I got to meet KC. My friend did not. I was the envy of all the girls at my school. KC and co. were all very nice and let us hang around for a long time.
Contrast that to when I was 16 and a friend and I went to a Bob Seger concert. We were on the front row. As luck would have it, there just weren't many attractive girls near the front, so my friend and I were serenaded by both the opening band and Bob. Bob was really hot then, so we were eating it up.

A member of his crew comes out with backstage passes and asked if we'd like to come backstage. Bob and the band would like us to join them. Then they would like us to join them after the concert. Now, in all fairness, we both looked older than 16.
My friend, who was....shall we say......a bit more worldy than I....was all over the offer and just about to clutch that pass when I stopped her for a chat. I told her I didn't think it was such a good idea to go backstage and go off partying with them. SURE IT IS!! Mmmm, I don't know...What if they expect something?

THEY WON'T DO THAT! But what if they do? IT'LL BE ALL RIGHT! At this point, I got the feeling she wasn't nearly so worried about unreasonable demands as I was. I told her there was no way I could explain a little long-haired Bob Seger baby to my mother in 9 months, so I was not going backstage or off to a hotel. Since I was driving, she was out of luck. The crew guy and his passes went backstage and the girls around us looked at us like we were nuts.

To this day, when Bob comes on the radio, I smile a wicked little smile.
