I turned 58 this year. I got to thinking how much has changed in my lifetime.

When I was born, Jim Hendrix’ first album came out. So did the Beatles Sgt Pepper.

When I was 2, we put a man on the moon. When I was 5, Viet Nam ended.

As kids, we played whiffle ball outside. Our curfew was the street lights. We didn’t lock our doors and neighbors could reprimand us. Our parents thanked the neighbor for yelling at us. Our friend from school could have dinner with us just because he happened to be there at dinner time. He didn’t have to go to soccer or some bullshit.

In grade school we got tested for a lisp, and they fixed it. We ate paste and didn’t die. We climbed a rope straight up 30 feet in the gym, and we didn’t let go. We learned cursive because it made sense. We said the pledge of allegiance, under God, and nobody complained.

In middle school, the paddles were drilled with holes so they swung faster. No parent complained if their kid got paddled. And no teacher got fired.

In high school there were bullies. Kids got tripped in the hall, and dealt with it. Those kids grew up to be rock stars in their field because life was hard, and they learned that lesson before anyone else. They had the jump start.

We talked to each other. We called each other on the land line. It was hit or miss if they would answer. We asked girls out by phone, privately, from the furthest, most secluded room in the house, because we didn’t want anyone to hear if we failed.

We dressed up for flights and held doors open for the person behind us. We looked people in the eye when we talked to them, and didn’t have a cell phone to pull out just to finish our thoughts.

We had our Social Security numbers on our checks, and we saved the War Bonds our grandparents gave us.

We took piano lessons instead of soccer camp, and hated it, but learned music and math at the same time.

We had a row of encyclopedias for school reports. We hand-wrote our term papers with 3 or 4 books laid open on the desk, bending the spines to hold the page. We made drafts and revised them, only to revise them again. With the notes in the margins, we transcribed the entire paper by hand for the final version. There’s something about that manual process that really makes you learn the material. I can tell you anything you want to know about Jacksonian Democracy 1828-1836.

We learned to drive in our parents’ boat of a car, but we drove a stick because that was the cheapest vehicle for a teenager. We had 8 track players in the dashboard or, if we were lucky, tape decks. We made mix tapes for our friends and that girl from the record store.

We shopped at the used record store because everything was one or two dollars. The coolest people worked there, and most of the time the records played just fine.

We looked for love by going out to places. Bars, clubs, the corner restaurant, concerts, the card shop across the street. We had to meet a person in real life, and make an impression. We talked to them in our awkward way, and most of the time it didn’t work out. And that was ok. But sometimes it did. And that was great.