Not Even Close

A musical throng of 400,000 strong invaded a dairy farm in New York in 1969, which set fire to the 70’s; but there was no chance of me being there; I was a good girl, 17 years young; sheltered, not knowing about the real world. Working in a grocery store 28 hours a week, while attending my senior year of high school, in my home town of Chariton, Iowa. There were gang-inspired movies of sheer horror and terror out about this time. I did not see any except Billy Jack, and the Glory Stompers. Both traumatized me so hard, I am still terrified of them. I was making macramé planters, Modge Podge boxes, and latch hook rugs if I could Get the money; the boxes were expensive. Some people were pretend hippies, wearing long hair. I grew my hair long For my yearbook photo, but then was sad because it had looked lots better short. By 1971, I was married, after being forced to view myself as an old maid By my peers who had all wed a month out of high school. I was wearing a large, black, bushy afro, and thought of myself as liberated. Not even close, honey, the Equal Rights Amendment did not even pass. By ’74 I had two babies; I remember getting a flat tummy after childbirth and being insanely unhappy that the new style was maternity-looking tops. Who made THAT decision? I was still wearing the hip-hugging bell bottom pants now, but without the wide belt. Mary Tyler Moore was on TV, shocking everyone with disbelief that a single woman could Make it on her own, without man, or marriage. “My Three Sons” and “The Brady Bunch” had been startling pushed out of the way by “All in the Family.” I had never known the word ‘bigot before’, I’m not sure I ever wanted to. By ’79 I had my third baby, was living in a large house in Des Moines, Iowa, and was a Girl Scout Troop Leader.