My friend is gone.
1962. Was it fun for you? For me, not so much… though I sure had a nice dress! I’m reblogging my graduation dance experience because, well, it’s that time of year, and memories abound…
A few snapshots from yesteryear…
With warmer weather around the corner (hopefully!), my thoughts have turned back to…
It’s a good thing there are people with vision. Otherwise, Montreal would still have a giant pit as part of its central train hub, smack-dab in the middle of downtown. Instead, by 1962 we were given this:
“ETIENNE, James Archie. Born May 23, 1917. Archie passed away peacefully on Thursday, April 27, 2006 at the age of eighty-eight…” So begins a simple, loving obituary for a good man.
Montreal used to be a bilingual city. It now has a unilingual-French “face” which is better for its majority-French-speaking citizens, I suppose, but not so wonderful for all the speakers of English, Italian, Greek, Chinese, and so on, who still live here.
Fifty-four years ago, in 1962, I came of age. Not just because I graduated from high school at the tender age of 16. And not because I shortly afterward landed my first job. (Prudential Assurance, corner of Dorchester and University.)
Ah, my younger self… with my daughter Kathryn – back in the days of post-Woodstock Nixon’s U.S.A.; before personal computers, smart phones and big-box stores.
So I have a milestone birthday coming up next month, as I’ve mentioned before. I am becoming distinctly forlorn over this. I’ve always been super-aware of aging whenever my current decade would crank over to the next. Life has whipped by way too fast for my liking. So I find myself looking at things I wrote years ago and some of it really takes me back… like these lyrics to a song I wrote back in ’86.