CVS/Pharmacy vs. Burger King

                               

1)  Blinded By the Light by Manfred Mann's Earth Band
2)  Couldn't Get It Right by Climax Blues Band
3)  Don't Give Up On Us by David Soul
4)  Dreams by Fleetwood Mac
5)  Easy by Commodores
6)  I Like Dreamin' by Kenny Nolan
7)  Lonely Boy by Andrew Gold
8)  So Into You by Atlanta Rhythm Section
9)  Walk This Way by Aerosmith
10) Baby Come Back by Player
11) Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty
12) Da Ya Think I'm Sexy by Rod Stewart
13) I Go Crazy by Paul Davis
14) It's A Heartache by Bonnie Tyler
15) Three Times A Lady by Commodores
16) Y.M.C. A. by Village People

Really?  Dedicate a blog to your place of employment?  As nutty as it sounds, my job at CVS was the first time I realized a life outside of my parents' home.  I'd had little jobs here and there, cleaning, tending, and the family band on some weekends but this was the first "real" job I had and it was the best!

Just before my 16th birthday they started building a Burger King on Pennsylvania Avenue.  It caused quite a stir as it was the first major fast food chain store to come to Warren.  We had had a Red Barn (anybody out there remember them?) and there was a Dairy Queen on the way to Corry but this was a big deal.  I was extremely eager to get a job when I turned 16 so I could afford to get myself some clothes and maybe a class ring.  I wanted some spending cash - pretty normal for a teen, I'd say.  When the trailer on the construction site of the Burger King hung out a banner announcing that they were taking applications for employment I walked straight down from high school after school one day to get in line to fill one out.  Come to find out, they were interviewing as well.  I figured that with the number of people who came out for the jobs, my chances were slim to none.

Finally, it was my turn to fill out my application and hand it in.  The person read it over and, instead of saying, thank you and me leaving, they asked if I could step down to talk to the other person.  I did so, and, of all things, they were intrigued with my family band experience.  I never thought that the one thing I usually tried to keep quiet would be the one thing that led them to hire me on the spot!  In their mind it showed someone who would be able to relate well to the public.  It set me apart from the sea of other teens.  I happily skipped (as close to skipping as you get when you're a teen) down to where my Dad was going to pick me up after work and informed him I had a job!!  He was happy for me and just chuckled when I told him how it was the family band mention that kinda did it for me.  He had been the one to tell me that I should definitely include it in my work experience when we had discussed how to fill out an application the night before.  He loved being right.  Don't we all?

Well, word spread quick at church about my future career at Burger King with congratulations from all.  But one lady, Debbie Parr, came up to me and asked if I was sure I wanted to work at a burger joint.  She told me that they were hiring at her work - CVS/Pharmacy - and she could get me in for an interview if I was interested.  Wow!  I was certainly interested but it really tested my confidence!  She told me about her job - how she was cashier but also stocked shelves, did inventory, put up end caps and followed something called a planogram.  I was pretty sure I could sling burgers and make paper crowns for kids' heads, but all of this stuff Debbie was telling me about sounded too complicated.  The other problem was, they needed someone right away whereas Burger King wouldn't be opening for another month or two.  I wouldn't be 16 for another month and CVS couldn't hire me before turning 16.  So what to do?

I talked to Dad, of course.  He told me to really consider what Debbie was offering to do for me.  He said that he had the confidence in me to be able to learn the tasks at CVS and he also felt that I would be learning skills that I could use later in life.  Did I really want to be serving burgers and in an atmosphere that would put me constantly around greasy food?  (I had just lost quite a bit of weight and he knew it was a concern of mine.)  And, appealing to my vanity perhaps, which uniform did I want to wear - the Burger King one, complete with stupid hat, or the simple red zip-up jacket worn at CVS. (I looked good in red ;-))

Debbie talked to her boss about me and even though I wouldn't be 16 he said for me to come in and he'd interview me.  I went and immediately liked the place.  Everyone was friendly and they all seemed to act like I had already been hired!  It was confusing to me.  I went in back and talked with Chuck, the manager, and he seemed nice enough.  He showed me around and explained what my duties would be.  I filled out the paper work and he said that by the time everything was approved by their headquarters, etc, it would be close enough to my 16th birthday, so why didn't I just go ahead and start.  There was a 3 month trial period.  That made me nervous.  What if I turned down the offer from Burger King, took the CVS job, then it didn't work out at CVS.  What would I do then?

Between Debbie and Dad talking to me, I decided to scare myself spitless and take the job at CVS.

It was a rough start, to be honest.  I started work right before their big quarterly sale.  I was REALLY struggling with the cash register.  Machines scared me.  Math scared me.  This was before the days when the register told you the change - you had to count it out and then back to the customer.  There were strict procedures dictating the order of a sale and the clerk's comments.  The company had secret shoppers and you never knew when one of these were in your line, ready to write you up for not stapling the receipt to the bag or asking if the customer found what they needed.

But the cash register mental block was the worst.  I was dreadfully slow at ringing up customers.  First you had to separate the non-taxable from the taxable items.  You'd ring up the taxable, subtotal, find the correct amount of tax on the  tax table taped to the register, then continue to ring up the rest of the items for the total. If you had an overring, it had to be corrected by a manager or 3rd key(a sort of assistant assistant manager).  Your overages and shortages were attached to your employment record.  Too many and you were gone.  All of these consequences just about paralyzed me.  I don't think my future at CVS looked too bright right then.  My friend, Debbie, was a whiz at the register and she could see I was frustrated.  One Sunday at church she came up to me and told me to report to work earlier than scheduled and she would take me up front and help me with the register.

I don't know just how she did it but it worked!  She had me ring some things up and immediately saw all my hesitancy.  She asked what I was afraid of.  I told her.  She then looked me right in the eye and said, "It's a machine!!  You are a human with a brain!  You are much smarter than it!  It's going to do what you tell it to!  It should be afraid of you!"  So with that whole "you're the boss of the machine" mentality in place, I was able to kick my hesitations to the curb and get down to business!

My confidence in being able to run that register soared.  I became one of the fastest cashiers there and learned to love that part of my job.  During the quarterly sales they always ran a competition among the cashiers - who could ring up the most sales with the least amount of errors AND have an even till at the end of their shift.  Among the part-timers, I usually won!  We would get the paper ads before they were sent out to the public ads and I'd use my study hall time at school and memorize those sale prices.  Looking up prices with a line of people took too much time and cut in to my total sales amount.  People came out in droves to the CVS quarterly sales to take advantage of the great prices.  I loved taking the next customer's basket, sorting out their taxables lickety split, ringing them up, then heading down the finish line to the total.  Bagged, receipt stapled, good day wishes and out the door!  My drawer was almost always even, and if off, only by a few cents.  I loved that cash register by the time I left that job!

Other duties at the store were unloading the truck and stocking the shelves.  The truck driver, Cowboy, was a fun guy and there was always alot of joking around when it was truck day.  We'd run handcart after handcart of bins in to the store, deposit them in the correct aisle, then, when the truck was unloaded, we started emptying the bins, pricing the merchandise and shelving the items, placing the new to the back of the shelf and rotating the older items up front.  We all had our favorite aisles.  I loved the shampoo aisles (loved smelling the new scents) and the tobacco aisle - cherry tobacco is a sublime aroma!

I also learned how to do the planograms.  Basically, they were diagrams of how products should be placed on a shelf.  This was needed when a new product was being introduced or an old one was being discontinued.  I learned later from another job that companies actually purchase shelf locations for their products with the shelves at eye-level costing the most.  As these shelf locations were bought and sold, product placement changed and a new planogram was sent out to the stores.

I also managed the greeting card department.  To this day I find myself straightening cards and resorting envelopes if they've been messed up when I go to Target or some other store.

The people I worked with were great.  I hit it off great with one of the pharmacists, Tom, who recognized that I didn't use foul language and didn't "party."  Sometimes the jokes and language at the store would get raunchy.  They couldn't believe that I didn't drink or smoke or try to sneak out of the house (not Debbie, of course).  But Tom would always look out for me and let me know that if it got too much I could escape back by him.  But it was all good.  Employees didn't change much.  Pete, a kid who was the stock boy when I started, was the sweetest kid ever!  Debbie didn't work there much longer after I started.  My friend, Kathie, came to work there for awhile towards the end of high school.  When Pete quit they hired Mark Campbell, a guy from school.  I didn't really know Mark well at school. He was Class President, on the football team, and your all-around popular guy.  I was nervous at first when he came to work but I soon came to know him as a very funny guy who did great Steve Martin impersonations.  He was a sincerely nice guy and treated me very well.  I'm glad I got to know him before I left.

I worked at CVS for two years, earning my little raise through every scheduled interview along the way.  I loved having spending money and being able to buy some clothes.  But I was frugal and I saved like nobody's business.  I had a system.  I would pocket the dollars in the singles column and the change and put the rest in the bank.  For instance - if my paycheck came out to $68.56 I would pocket $8.56 and deposit the $60.00 in my savings.  If I had a major purchase coming up I would keep enough out for that or withdraw what I needed.  But, for the most part, I budgeted my meals, etc from that little amount. School lunches, which I paid for myself, were, I think .50 or .75.  I would get a plate of fries for dinner or, if I had enough, a sub as well.  I loved being able to buy Christmas and birthday gifts for my family with my very own money.  All in all, I had a nice little nest egg saved up when I graduated from high school and moved west.  I still have very fond memories of my CVS days.  Very fond, indeed.

I love this playlist - even though it includes a song I don't particularly like.  It is a small sampling of what went out over the airwaves during my wonder years at CVS.  I absolutely adore the fact that I was a teen in the 70s and was blessed to be influenced by the diversity of the music of that era.  Far out!!

Awesome Conferences

1.  Just the Way You Are by Billy Joel
2.  Bennie & the Jets by Elton John
3.  Haven't Got Time for the Pain by Carly Simon
4.  Beth by KISS
5.  Don't Go Breakin' My Heart by Elton John
6.  If You Leave Me Now by Chicago
7.  Mandy by Barry Manilow
8.  Come and Get Your Love by Redbone
9.  Lady by Styx
10. She's Gone by Daryl Hall & John Oates
11. Killing Me Softly by Roberta Flack

I decided that Youth Conference and Snow Conference needed an entry of their own.

Youth Conferrence was the BIG event of the year!  We held fund raisers and saved up our personal money so that we could go each year.  It was always held on a college campus in the general vicinity of where we lived.  They needed a place with lots of rooms as this included all youth ages 14-18 from the states all around us.  My first year they used Kent State University but my personal favorite campus that was used was Slippery Rock State College.

Youth Conference lasted about three or four days as I remember.  During the days we would choose from classes with all sorts of different topics.  There were spiritual, of course, but also practical ones about dating and career planning, health and beauty, sports, dancing.  I can't remember them all but they had top-notch teachers for every single one and I looked forward to the classes as much as the activities.  We stayed in the dorm rooms and shared with the other girls in our branch.  We always had wonderful youth leaders in our branch and often they would go with us as chaperones for the trip but sometimes they had to recruit other people from the branch to go as well.  I'll always remember Sister Karen Hohmann going with us.  She and her husband were new members in our branch and they were a newly married young couple.  Sister Hohmann was so pretty and so young looking.  She came with us as chaperone on my last year.  The rules of the conference were that after 10 pm, all youth had to be in their dorms and could not be out on the campus unless escorted by a chaperone.  Well, we all got a bug to wander over to some building for a snack one night so Sister Hohmann agreed to take us.  On our way we got stopped by one of the "patrol" leaders and asked what we were doing out so late without a chaperone.  We pointed at Sister Hohmann and told them that she was our leader.  They said,  "Yeah, right!  Nice try, kids!  Now off you go back to your room.  We are going to have to have a talk with your leader."  Sister Hohmann said, "Well, go ahead and talk because I AM their leader!"  We ended up having to walk back to the dorms so one of the other, older looking leaders could vouch for her.  Sister Hohmann was our hero.  We loved her even more after that!

Sister Karen Hohmann

The highlight of Youth Conference was the dance on the final night.  There was a more informal one on another night, but it was usually so soon after we got there that nobody had had a chance to meet any one new and make friends so you basically just hung out with the kids you came with.  All around the room there were mini branch and ward dances going on inside the one big dance.  But after a few days of being able to mingle with other groups, the final dance was the one everyone looked forward to.  That dance was usually formal and, looking back on it, the preparation for it was where most of the excitement of the night happened.  Picture a dorm room setting, tons of girls doing each other's hair and makeup, hairspray flying - estrogen city!  Every now and then the phone would ring and there would be anticipation as to which guy would be calling which girl to ask them to accompany them to the dance! (cue the squeals)  There were the girls who pretended not to care about the dance - those not yet 16 and able to have a "date" anyway - they usually hung out by the window which afforded the best view to see the boys approaching from the men's dorm.  Alerts would be sent out to the appropriate girl if her "date" was spied on his way.  My girls will probably roll their eyes at this account - but it was as close as my life got to that of a typical teenage girl and I relish it even today.

My last year I finally had a date.  It was a guy from my district.  He was a year younger and a mile taller, but we were buddies - nothing more.  It was fun to go to the dance and not feel the pressure of a girlfriend/boyfriend situation.  We walked in to the ballroom and the first number they played was a polka!  Well, being a good little German girl, I had been taught on the feet of my Grandpa and uncles how to do the polka.  I was thrilled when Cliff, a good little German boy with equal training in the dance, swooped me into his arms and literally swung me out and around the dance floor!  I didn't have to do a thing but fly as pretty as I could!  We laughed and giggled and it was a great night!

Even though I only had a date that last year, I usually did get asked to dance at youth conference anyway.  There were a couple guys who continued to remember me from my very first year.  I'm pretty sure it had a lot to do with the fact that I was one of the kids from our district who performed in the talent show the first night of conference - my very first conference ever.  Wow - every time I recall that night I have so many mixed emotions.  How is it that I ended up sitting myself down to a piano in front of hundreds and hundreds of kids my age and, accompanying myself, belting out "Killing Me Softly" by Roberta Flack?  This is how!  We heard before conference that there was going to be a talent show and each district should provide a few entries for it.  Everyone in our district knew about our family band because we usually played for the Gold and Green Ball every year.  They asked if I would be one of the talents.  I was really nervous.  I had never been to the youth conference before and had no idea what to expect.  I asked all sorts of questions with the most pressing on my mind being - how many kids would there be?  They all hem-hawed around and just assured me it wouldn't be any more than what I was used to singing in front of with my family band.  But that was the clincher.  With my family band, I had the support of my family around me - my father, my mentor, literally right by my side!  I had never sat down and accompanied myself except for at home in our living room while practicing or monkeying around.  It would be just me, the piano, and a microphone.  I reluctantly agreed and went about trying to decide on a song.  I had it narrowed down to two songs - "Haven't Got Time For the Pain" by Carly Simon and "Killing Me Softly."  Dad stepped in and made the final decision of the Roberta Flack number, saying it laid better for my voice.  So off we go to Youth Conference and when we got there and I saw how many kids there were I just about went nuts!  I wanted to back out so badly!  And I almost did but my leaders talked me into being brave and assured me all would be fine. My heart was pounding and I could hardly breathe.  My legs could barely carry me out to the piano.  Singing was one thing but I have NEVER felt comfortable playing the piano in front of people.  What have I gotten myself in to??!!  The first few notes were shaky but as I continued it all just sort of came out and the next thing I knew I was done and they actually clapped - with a few whistles thrown in here and there!  Well, because I DID do it, it put me out there where I was seen and then remembered later that week at the dance - and even a few years later.  So maybe it was worth it, eh?

Towards the end of my years in MIA they started having these mini-conferences in the winter called "Snow Conference."  We'd use a lodge of some sort and it was usually just district level.  These were also times of great fun.  I don't remember dances being associated with these conferences.  I remember the fun the girls would have up in our one big bunk room.  We just hung out with each other.  The last one I attended (1978) was my most memorable.  I had met the man of my dreams and had just returned from meeting his family for the first time over Christmas break.  He had asked me to marry him and I had said "Yes!"  But more about that later.  Being engaged kind of made me an odd entity in MIA.  But I was in the process of planning a temple marriage and the girls were curious and happy and hopeful that they would be able to find someone like that someday, too.  The red-striped footie pjs I'm wearing in this photo were a gift from him!

Me and Shayla B.

On this playlist are a few songs that have such a strong connection to this entry.  Of course, the songs I practiced for my Youth Conference performance.  But I need to point out the Billy Joel connection.  His hit, Just the Way You Are, was big right at the time of that last Snow Conference.  Somebody brought a Billy Joel album to conference and we played that over and over.  I love the words to that song and it's exactly how I felt - that somebody loved me just the way I was.  That struck a deep chord in me.  I had to include some Hall & Oates because, to this day, I swear it was them playing on the Slippery Rock campus one year.  We were walking through the student center building and there was this little concert going on and the crowd just grew and grew.  We joined them and I loved their sound.  Not much later, I heard Hall & Oates on the radio and I started yelling, "These are those guys that were at Slippery Rock!"  Any Hall & Oates song slams me right inside of that Slippery Rock building - whether it truly was them or not.  They ARE from Philly, you know!

Bad Hair & Dancing

1.  Frankenstein by Edgar Winter
2.  Brother Louie by The Stories
3.  Hello It's Me by Todd Rundgren
4.  The Joker by The Steve Miller Band
5.  Aubrey by Bread
6.  Higher Ground by Stevie Wonder
7.  My Love by Wings & Paul McCartney
8.  Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt-Kickers
9.  Smoke On the Water by Deep Purple
10. Reelin' In the Years by Steely Dan
11.  Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin

My teens are probably my least favorite time of my life. Is that true for everyone? I don't know - but for me, it was. There just didn't seem to be anything about myself that I felt was up to par.  I got teased for being short, for being chubby, for being Mormon, for only wearing dresses to school when pants were all the rage - you name it, I just didn't measure up. I tried as hard as I could to blend in to the walls but, somehow, sometimes I was still picked up on someone's radar and awkward  and painful moments would follow.  I didn't possess the talent for glib retorts and ended up saying something in defense that would just send the attacker into fits of laughter.  I wasn't quite Josie Grossie from "Never Been Kissed", but I definitely felt her pain in the movie.   One thing I can say for myself - although I wasn't wearing the latest fashion, at least I was clean and well-groomed!  Yeah - that doesn't quite pack the punch you're hoping for, does it?  But it was the words of solace my mother would send me out the door with.  To be fair, I do have to say that there was more emphasis in those days on personal hygiene as opposed to name brands.  I didn't even know what a "brand" was until well into adulthood.  Jeans were jeans, shirts were shirts.  Styles mattered, but not where you got your style.  But if you stunk, it didn't matter what you were wearing!

I've already mentioned the Pixie haircut - but let me share with you some photos leading up to that time.

7th Grade

8th Grade

 My 7th and 8th grade pictures look very similar. You will notice that I wore practically the same outfit, only changing out the color of shirt under the jumper. This was not planned - just evidence that I didn't have a very extensive wardrobe and was just learning to sew. (The sewing would open up the door to all sorts of wardrobe options in the future!)   Let's look closer, though - particularly the hair.   In the 7th grade portrait you will notice the bangs simply because they are the most horrible mess EVER!  My mom decided that morning that my bangs, which she detested anyway, were too long. So she goes and grabs her shears and starts trimming. But no matter what, they kept coming out uneven. After a few attempts to even them up, time ran out because the bus was coming and out the door I went. When I got to school I ran to the bathroom and saw what an insane mess it was.  Heaven help me!  Had she used the pinking shears?!  What on Earth was I going to do now?  I got them wet and tried to work with them but there was just no use. As I looked in the mirror I swore that that was the LAST time my mom would ever touch my hair - and it was!  I couldn't afford to go to a salon at that time so my only option was to just let it grow out and go without bangs.   And this leads up to what's going on in my 8th grade portrait. Just pull that hair back, wrap a ribbon on it and call it good!   But what was I going to do?   There wasn't a soul I trusted to cut my hair who would do it for free and no funds to go to a salon - so it just grew. I would soon get a job, though, from a lady for whom my mother tended.  She owned a hair salon and I would go in and clean for her - sweep up the hair, clean the restroom, mop, clean combs and brushes.  I didn't make much, at least not enough for a haircut, but I think she took pity on me and would have me come in and she'd do a quick trim on the ends or give me an updo of some sort, just so I could feel pretty.  No bangs, though! I just knew that if I got them, my mom would insist on trimming them and that just wasn't going to happen!

Amongst all this teenage angst there was one place I could go, though, where I felt accepted and not quite as dorky.  In church, at age 12, you advanced to the youth group and were able to participate in their activities.  I had watched my brothers leave on a weeknight to make the drive up to Jamestown, New York, for the MIA activities.  MIA stood for Mutual Improvement Association and it was for ages 12 - 18. You had lessons and activities.   It was a chance for the LDS youth to associate with each other. There were very few LDS people in our area and, often, as in my elementary days, I was the only one. In high school there were a few others, but we were, by and large, a minuscule minority.  It felt good to get together with other youth your age who shared the same beliefs and standards you did, where you could have fun and not worry that someone was going to make fun of you or try to get you to drink or smoke.

Part of the program was a girls camp that was held every year where they tried to teach us different camping and survival skills. The location was different each year, some years more rustic than others. Some years we had to dig our own latrine. One year it was actually held on the lawn of some chapel! But I usually had a good time. We were certified each year and, if we did all the years, we got an award of some sort. I don't know because I only made it to girls camp until I got a job when I was 16 - I didn't complete all the years. But I will always remember the times I got to go and hang out with my friends and the crazy skits we did and pranks we played.

Like I said, our numbers were few and girls always seemed to outnumber the boys in our area. In essence, there was me, Rachie McNutt, Dale Johnson, Mary Mortenson, and later, Cathy Mahon, Lynda Campbell, and LeNae and Geniel Peavey. There were a few more girls from the Jamestown area, but we were the Warren girls. Every now and then they'd try to create a Warren branch, but it didn't really take off until I was about 15 or 16 - and then we met above a dairy building that was just below the high school.

What I looked forward to more than anything as a youth was NOT dating, but being 14 and old enough to attend the dances.  At all the playing jobs we did I always longed to be out on the dance floor, not up there singing and watching everyone else have fun. I don't consider myself a good dancer at all, I just like to move to the music! Still do today! I really, really, really like to dance! So it didn't take much to make me happy.  We'd have dances on a branch level - interesting when Warren finally did become their own branch and the only guy your age was your brother!   But before Warren Branch was formed, there were just enough guys from Jamestown and we had so much fun!

I will never, EVER, forget when the Peaveys moved in to the area. Don and his two sisters, Lenae and Geniel, were the most fun and creative people I had ever known.  Don won my heart at the very first dance we had after they moved in.  It was at the Jamestown chapel in the multi-purpose room.  We had the usual songs that were played, all current, and good dance music. When Edgar Wiinters' "Frankenstein" started playing, Don came running into the room and started doing this leaping sort of dance all around the room. We were mesmerized! It was awesome! We all clapped and egged him on, not wanting it to stop. Thank goodness it's a long song! We all tried to dance like him - we couldn't. To this day, sometimes I'll put on the song and, if I'm sure I'm quite alone, I'll attempt Don's dance.  No can do.  Just one of many talents that you can only possess if you are a Peavey.   I could fill an entire blog entry or two of Peavey memories.  Maybe I will someday.  They are just that awesome.

The other memorable dances occurred at Super Saturdays.  Super Saturdays were part of the Seminary program - a religious education course for the youth of the church.  We usually drove to Erie for them since Erie was the home location for our district.  During the day we would have lessons, games, and activities of different kinds.  At the end of the day we always ended with a dance.  The girls would go to some member's home and get ready - not that they were formal - it's just that after a day of playing hard you wanted to clean up and look good!   On a district level, the number of guys increased drastically! These dances could be a bit like school dances in the sense that you didn't know all the guys there and some awkward moments usually came up.  You know, I didn't get asked to dance much at these dances, either, but I still would rather be here and not being asked to dance than at a school dance not being asked to dance.  Over the years I slowly came to the realization that I was probably just going to be a career woman and I set my sights on those goals.  Guys - I should say, good guys - just weren't all that interested in me.  I guess I can say that nonchalantly today, knowing the outcome of my story, but if I were to be truly honest, it hurt me a great deal at the time.

This playlist includes many of the songs that were usually played at the church dances.   On the branch and district levels, the evening always ended with "Stairway To Heaven." I find this an unusual choice because, it starts out slow and is a great slow dance song, but then it starts rocking out and it always left us wondering, so now how do we dance?  We knew, though, when that famous arpeggio intro started, that if there was someone we'd been wanting to dance with all night and hadn't done it yet,  now was the time to grab him/her because this was our last chance!

A note on the links to these songs - I will sometimes choose a video of lesser listening quality so that you can see other cultural elements of the time.  This, I think, helps you feel the notes of the "era" better.

Fish Stories

Me when I was about 16, still fishing strong in my

favorite fishing outfit - bandana in hair, long-sleeved thermal, and jeans

1.  Indian Reservation by Paul Revere & The Raiders
2.  It's Too Late by Carole King
3.  Amos Moses by Jerry Reed
4.  Temptation Eyes by The Grass Roots
5.  Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters
6.  Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver
7.  Signs by The Five Man Electrical Band
8.  Help Me Make It Through the Night by Sammi Smith
9.  Lonely Days by The Bee Gees
10.  Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again by The Fortunes
11.  It Don't Come Easy by Ringo Starr
12.  Riders On the Storm by The Doors

Would it surprise you to know that, when I was very young, I dreamed of being able to go fishing?  As a little girl I would watch my dad, and then my big brothers, get all geared up for the first day of fishing season. The getting of the licenses, the digging for worms and purchasing of other bait like salmon eggs - it all seemed so exciting. They'd talk about which streams would be the best and which ones had been stocked. I can't remember how old I was when I started pestering them to let me come. I would see the look of dismay on my brother's faces as they feared that my dad would cave in and let me come along. But he didn't. Until one year.  I don't remember the exact age - I'm guessing it was right around 11 or 12 because I know we were living on Keenan Street at the time - but when I begged he actually seemed to stop and consider it! My hopes soared! I think he thought he was being very clever when he finally made his response - after all, I WAS a prissy sort.  But he didn't realize just how badly I wanted to go. So when he said, "Sure, you can go, but you have to bait your own hook and clean your own fish and undo your own tangles" and I enthusiastically replied, "OK!! Just show me how and I will do it!," I think he was truly surprised!  Being a parent now, I realize what processed through his mind at that moment. First off was probably - "Dang!"  Then came the resolve that he had made an offer that he hadn't expected to be taken, but now that it was, this year was going to be more of a teaching year for him than an actual fishing one. At least the first day of fishing season, anyway.

 I was so excited as he, and my brothers, filled me in on the rules. I already knew the rules, though. I had sat around that dinner table too many times and listened to the stories they would tell. I knew to be quiet, especially in areas where the stream pooled out and hit a quiet spot. I knew that you don't go stomping through the water. I knew that you keep your pole tip forward and angled down a bit as you walked through the trees so as to not get it caught in the branches overhead. I knew to watch your line as it drifted down so as to not cross someone else's line and you certainly don't cast across another person's line! I knew that fish were hungrier in the early morning and they also ate well after it rained and the water might be muddied a bit. I knew that fish like to hide under the tree roots where the stream cuts back under and forms a little deeper pool. I knew to leave a bit of worm dangling off the hook because the fish like to see the worm wiggle - it let them know that it was alive.

My brother, Ed, helped me dig for worms and showed me how to get the night crawlers to come up out of the ground. There was the usual flooding with the garden hose technique, but he had come up with some sort of secret mustard sauce that he would pour down into the holes and those night crawlers would come right up out of their holes. We had our flashlights handy and I got pretty good at grabbing those slippery little things and adding them to our worm pail full of dirt. Ed also showed me a few different ways to thread the worms on to my hook so that when the fish took the bait, the worm would slide up on the hook, and maybe you could get more uses from that worm than just that one bite.   He taught me how important it was to make sure the hook was hidden because fish were pretty smart.  Ed and dad both taught me how to cast in our back yard.

That first day came and I was so excited to be up super early with the guys. They had already talked and decided who would go where. We just happened to live where there were tons of streams so choices were plenty. Dad had scouted out a spot that he thought would be perfect for me. It was a spot where the water dammed up a bit and there was a tree with an exposed root system at the edge of the water. He knew that there was tons of what he called "crappies" or "sun daze" in there. I guess that dad decided that if I was so excited to try that I'd be willing to play with worms and cut the guts out of the fish, then he wanted me to have a good time. And what "hooks" a kid on fishing quicker than actually catching a fish? You don't care how big it is, you just want to have that feeling of pulling something in! To this day, that tug on the end of the line excites me!

He watched me bait my hook, then pointed out the water flow and instructed me to cast upstream just a bit and then let my line drift down, making sure the bait sailed past that tree trunk - but slowly reeling in at the same time. Too much line would make me get a snag. So I did as he asked and got a nibble that very first time! My eyes went huge! He explained about the patience part. You just have to keep doing it and eventually they'll bite hard! He was right! It didn't take too many casts and I was reeling in those crappies! I kept the ones that were big enough and released those that weren't. When he saw I had the hang of it, he left me there to go to another spot nearby where he could fish. I kept pulling those fish in all day! When it slowed down I learned the beauty of sitting on a fish bank, line dropped, just waiting for that bite, but loving the absolute serenity of it all. I instinctively learned how to lean my pole against my knee, prop it up on a branch, and lay back and rest, knowing I would be able to feel any tug on that line. I have always been a talker - talk, talk talk, all day long - couldn't shut me up. This was a concern with my dad and brothers. They warned me over and over again about how I wasn't going to be able to talk! Fishing required quiet! I learned how to be still by learning to fish. It's probably one of the few times where I am rendered speechless! I found I LIKED the pondering! I LIKED the quiet!

At the end of the day, Dad showed me how to gut the first one and I eagerly went to work on the rest! It wasn't so bad. I didn't particularly like how the scales would stick to everything but, oh well! We returned home with our catch and mom cooked them up for dinner!

I was so proud to be able to be in on the sharing of the stories! They were all laughing about how I was just zinging them in, one right after the other. One of the boys tried to tease me about how small they were but it didn't faze me. You could tell which ones were mine on the platter - too small to even be boned. You had to just eat around the bones. But they were mine! And I was one of the guys that day!

I started scouting the creeks right around our house and found spots that I knew would be good fishing. It was a new way to escape. I'd get my chores done, grab my pole and bait and head across the street and start following the creek to my holes, fishing until I had to get home to help with dinner. Oh, how I loved this release - this time to myself - this time of quiet thought and contemplation. I grew to have my love and appreciation of nature through fishing. I was SO blessed to have grown up in the area I did, where the lush forests and plentiful streams were readily available. I thank my dad for many things, but among the most treasured is allowing me to go fishing. I also can't think of it without realizing just how much my brother, Ed, did to prepare me so I could be successful.  It's amazing what blessings come to the forefront through pondering.  What gifts. What blessings.  And this ain't no fish story!

Slumber Parties

1.  Seasons In the Sun by Terry Jacks
2.  Daddy Don't You Walk So Fast by Wayne Newton
3.  Billy, Don't Be A Hero by Bo Donaldson & The Heywoods
4.  Jackie Blue by Ozard Mountain Daredevils
5.  Run Joey Run by David Geddes
6.  One Tin Soldier by The Original Caste
7.  If  by Bread
8.  The Last Song by Edward Bear
9.  I Think I Love You by The Partridge Family
10. Band of Gold by Freda Payne
11. Rock Me Gently by Andy Kim
12. Diary by Bread
13. Knock Three Times by Tony Orlando & Dawn

I think slumber parties are a great learning ground.  It's the first lesson in a girl's life about the importance of girlfriends.  It's also probably the first lesson in a girl's life about back stabbers!  You learn about taking turns telling your "oh my gosh!" stories and you learn about the fine art of talking over someone else - as in, say, there are four girls sitting in a circle at 12 o'clock, 3 o'clock, 6 o'clock, and 9 o'clock.  The girls at 12 and 6 can carry on an animated conversation at the same time as the 3 and 9 girls do - and it's all OK.  This gets more info out at a faster pace.  It's letting go of this acquired talent as you get older that can be difficult!  And guys just don't get it!  Slumber parties also taught me that the darker it gets, the more loose your tongue tends to be.  Sometimes you end up sharing things that in the daylight, well, you wished you hadn't.  But there it is.  It's out there.  What will the listeners do with that info?  Life lesson - think before you speak - no matter how dark it is - no matter how much others are sharing.  JUST THINK FIRST!!!

I started going to slumber parties when we lived in Arizona, so I was about 9 or 10.  That's kind of young but it was just such a great way to get to know my new friends.  We were still too young to worry about hairdos, but we were just starting to be interested in boys.  Most of the boy conversations, though, centered around which ones did the grossest things.  Mostly we liked to play games and have seances.  Seances?  Indeed!  I find this hilarious as I look back, because, who did we choose to contact in the spirit world?  Geronimo!  That's who!  Well, I guess it was in Arizona, but, still.  Doesn't that crack you up?  I don't remember any real fruitful attempts.  You really can find "evidence" of a spirit in just about anything - the flicker of the candle, a sudden car door slam outside.  It's ridiculously...... funny!

 Frankly, my favorite part of slumber parties were waking up the next day and having breakfast!  I was so curious about what other people ate for breakfast and what mornings were like for other families.  My parents always cooked breakfast - weekdays and weekends.  Cold cereal was almost unheard of.  They said it was "nothing but sugar!" with disdain as they asked if I wanted more syrup for my pancakes.  I didn't catch the irony of that until much older.  Actually, maybe one of my kids pointed that out to me!  I remember one slumber party breakfast in particular.  It was at a girl named Teresa's house.  I didn't know her as well as others but that BREAKFAST!  Her parents were very kind people and they made pancakes.  Not from scratch.  Out of a box! (gasp!!!)  But they were light and thick and delicious!  Furthermore, they had butter!  Not margarine.  Real butter!  And these pancakes soaked up the butter and the syrup.  Well, I was just a little runt, of course, even more so then than ever, but I ate every single person in that kitchen, including the dad, under the table!  I couldn't figure out what it was about those pancakes, but I knew that each one I ate only made me want another one.  Pretty soon, I narrowed it down to the butter.  I started skipping the syrup and just had butter.  At the time I didn't know the difference between margarine and butter.  I went home and tried to tell my parents about the stuff they spread on their pancakes and how it was almost cheesy in taste.  I don't think they heard much else after I told them about the pancakes out of a box, though.  It took me quite awhile to figure out the differences between butter and margarine.  It's all about exposure.  And my exposure to butter was very limited growing up!  Once in awhile my mom made it from cream.  But we were pretty much a margarine family.  It was cheaper and fed the masses more economically.

When we moved back to Pennsylvania I found out that my friends from there had also embarked on the world of slumber parties.  Invites started coming in and it was fun to go spend the night at friends' houses that I had only played at during the day before.  It seemed funny to see their parents in robes.  They also did seances and I introduced the whole Geronimo idea to them.  I'm pretty sure we tried to contact him but I can't remember who else.  Then someone got a Ouija board and brought that.  It was even more silliness as you knew someone was directing that wedge to go right where they wanted it to go.

As we got older, well, conversations were taken over by boys.  There just wasn't enough time in a night to talk about all the boys we wanted to talk about!  There was always something new to discover about who liked who and who had just broken up.  And we had to talk about hair and makeup, too.  Magazines were brought and shared.  There were arguments over who was cuter, David Cassidy or Donny Osmond.  Squeals of laughter when someone divulged that they actually thought Danny Bonaduce was cute!

And there was music - ALWAYS!  Someone had a turntable and we brought records.  The playlist above is a selection of songs that were popular at the slumber parties.  Oh, how we would listen to these sappy, sorry songs and cry!  Seasons in the Sun was a big hit and an even bigger tear jerker!  When I hear songs like that today, ie Don't Take the Girl, I cringe.  It's just so obvious and I feel played.  But, back then, we ate it up!  Diary by Bread had us laying on our sleeping bags, picturing the whole thing - a cute boy finding OUR diary and reading about how the one he loved really loved another.  Did he get mad?  No - he wished her the best.  Because that's just how much he loved her! sigh I don't think I can count the number of times we played Knock Three Times, singing it at the top of our lungs!  I had to include Rock Me Gently because I couldn't wait to share with the girls how a guy in my German class would sit there, lean forward, and sing it to me during class!  Squeal!!!  I acted annoyed, of course, but, here I am 35 years later, still remembering, still smiling.

Slumber parties only lasted until I was about 14.  The older I got the more responsibilities I had.  We also had a family band and I was busy playing jobs on the weekends, the standard slumber party time slot.  Then I got a job and, well, the rest is history.  For the most part, my teen years were about working either at home or at CVS Pharmacy.  It was all good, I just didn't have much social time.  I had music, though.  There was, and is, always music, playing in the background, coating my memories with glue, sticking them to my heart forever.

My Christmas Tag

This entry will be a bit of a departure from my usual as I am responding to a "tag" from my oldest daughter, Becca, about what the Christmas spirit is to me - the symbols, the traditions. It's interesting to note that she focused on the tree as hers because I hope she got that from me. The tree, or more accurately, the choosing of the tree, is a big part of my childhood memories and the moment that always set me right in the spirit of the holiday. No ordinary tree would do for us - oh no! We searched until we found the perfect tree! I accompanied my father on this quest and we would discuss height and circumference. If there was a toddler or crawler in the house at the time, my mother would request a sharp-needled tree. Now before you all get upset about this, think about it. I don't ever remember having trouble with ornaments and little ones. I used this same strategy with my little ones and, again, never had to worry about putting ornaments up high. I also added jingle bells to the lower branches just in case I had a more determined one in the house. If I heard a jingle, I quickly went in and distracted them with something else as equally shiny and wonderful. But, usually, the sharp needles were deterrent enough themselves. Sometimes my dad and I would find our perfect tree on a pre-cut lot, sometimes we had to take to the snowy field. We would then bring home our perfect find and dad would put it up in the stand. Music was played on the record player, dad would string the lights and then we'd empty carton after carton of ornaments upon that tree. And then - the best part of all!!! Pulling on our jammies, turning off the lights, and cuddling up on the couch and sitting and staring at the wonder of it all while listening to Bing and Nat and the Harry Simeone Chorale, The King Sisters, and Andy Williams. My mother is the most clever person I know when it comes to decorating. We never had a large budget but people thought we did because of how beautiful our home always looked. And during the holidays she outdid herself!

I would now like to talk about another tree which always held me spellbound. That of my maternal grandmother's. It was always HUGE! Did they have higher ceilings? I don't know. But their tree always seemed massive. She had the usual colored bulb lights like we did. She had the shiny glass ornaments like we did. But she also had the glow-in-the-dark tiny, baby cherub angels which she hung all over her tree. You couldn't really see them until the lights were out. So, as you can guess, whenever we went to her house, I'd run into her front room, yelling over my shoulder, "Grandma! Come turn out the lights! I want to see the baby angels!" And you know, she always obliged. She'd chuckle and shake her head as if to say, "Kids get excited about the darnedest things!" But I think it made her happy inside to know that I got so much pleasure out of it. I remember I had gone to her house when I was an adult with children of my own. The baby angels weren't on the tree and I think my dismay showed when I asked where they were. A few days later, she showed up at my mom's house (where we were staying for the holidays) with a little box. In it were several of these sweet, baby angels. She thought I should have some because maybe my little ones would get the same joy that I had. We shared a moment, as we often did, not that she was a huggy sort or anything, but she and I had a connection - a sort of innate understanding. I knew she loved me and I loved her back. Sadly, the baby angels had lost their glow after so many years, and I started losing them here and there due to their being so small and not finding them all as the tree was taken away. So I've stopped putting them up. Perhaps I should find a tiny tree on which to hang my tiny angels. Or maybe I'll just create a display where I can see them year round.

After the tree, I would have to say that my most magical Christmas memories were the Christmas day shrimp feasts at my grandmother's house. She would cover her dining room table with plastic and newspapers. Shrimp would be brought up from my uncle's family in Maryland and they would boil it up in Old Bay Seasoning. Pot after pot would be dumped into the center of the table and people would take turns bellying up to the table, rolling up their sleeves, and shelling and eating to their hearts' content! The smell of Old Bay is always the smell of Christmas!

Sometimes my Grandpa Ristau would hitch up the sleigh to the back of his tractor and all Christmas Eve he would take batch after batch of family out on a ride about the countryside. You know those Christmas cards that show the snowy fields and everything is cast in shades of blue? It looks exactly like that! We would burrow down into the blankets and the laps of the adults and listen as the adults would chat and laugh and the moon would shine bright and sparkle off the untouched snow in the fields. If I had a time machine, I'd be right there in a heartbeat!

I always wanted to recreate the Christmases of my childhood for my kids but that is impossible and I think you just come up disappointed in the effort to do so. Those first few Christmases away from home were very difficult for me. Even when I was able to go home for Christmas with my newborn son, things were already different. My in-laws had lovely traditions of their own, yet they weren't my traditions. I quickly realized that I needed to cherish my memories and hold them special as my own. With my husband, we took parts of his and parts of mine and melded a brand of Christmas of our own. And I'm glad to know that we've hatched a success! I just hope my children understand that they, too, need to make a recipe of their own that their family can enjoy. Even within our own traditions I find that as life goes on and situations change, traditions need tweaking now and then. The common denominator, then, becomes, not the tree, not the shrimp, not the favorite Christmas show, but family and being together. Sharing the joy of the season and delighting in watching little ones embrace the spirit and experiencing it anew. Is there anything more precious than the lights of a tree reflected in the bright eyes of a child?

Changing Times, Changing Places

1. Make It With You by Bread

2. Make Me Smile by Chicago

3. (They Long To Be) Close To You by The Carpenters

4. No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature by The Guess Who

5. 25 Or 6 To 4 by Chicago

6. Up Around the Bend by Creedance Clearwater Revival

7. Woodstock by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

8. Spirit In the Sky by Norman Greenbaum

9. American Woman by The Guess Who

10. ABC by The Jackson 5

11. Evil Ways by Santana

12. No Time by The Guess Who

13. Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon & Garfunkel

14. Mama Told Me (Not To Come) by Three Dog Night

My father's work took us back to Pennsylvania after my fourth grade year. I was sad to be leaving my new friends, but excited to reconnect with those friends I had had since I could remember. "Would they be different after only a year," I wondered. Grandpa and Grandma Ristau helped find a house for us. It was just down the road from their house, almost right across the street from where we lived when I was born, which was also the house in which my mother had been born. Our new house was a grand old home, built somewhere around the 1900's, I think. Lots of oak woodwork throughout, a magnificent porch on the front, a stairway that split and went both into the kitchen and down to the front entry. There were sliding pocket doors to divide the dining room from the living room. There was a third floor, or walk-up attic, but we used it for a loft type of bedroom for the boys. I loved this house from the minute I saw it (and made sure no ghosts lived there!) It was the old Keenan house and was on Keenan Street in Rogertown, between Clarendon and Warren, not too far from the Glade Bridge. We would live here until I left home to get married, making it the place I lived the longest in my childhood. Therefore, it is "home" to me. So many memories took place in that home. . . . .

Although I had only been gone a year, so much had changed! Actually, I had been gone from the Clarendon friends for two grades, so it was almost like I was brand new! I would attend school back up in Clarendon but they had built a huge new school! It seemed so modern compared to the old one. Some of the old teachers were still there. Mrs. Hansen still taught art. Mrs. Grosch was still there. Mrs. Brindis was there and, of course, my great aunt, Mrs. Maurer was still there! She taught 5th grade. Would I get her? She had taught some of my older brothers so I knew it wasn't out of the question. Well, I didn't get her. We rotated to her for American History and I learned my state capitols from her, but my main teacher was Mr. Davis. Before, the younger grades alone had been at the school in Clarendon with the older grades either in Tiona or at Lincoln. Now we were all together! Most of my friends didn't know my aunt before because she taught the older grades at Lincoln. Most of them didn't really even know that she was my aunt. Aunt Gwen had a reputation for being very strict. Some downright didn't like her. I loved her so much and it made it difficult for me to hear the kids (at the beginning of the year) talk badly about her. Yes, she was very strict, but if you did your work and followed the rules she was lots of fun. She had been the first married woman in the area to be allowed to be a principal. Back then, if you married, you were pretty much expected to quit and stay home. Sometimes you'd be allowed to teach a little while, but it was unheard of to get married and then actually advance to a position such as principal! But she did! She watched out for me but didn't treat me specially. Eventually, everyone knew she was my aunt so the bad talk came to a stop, at least around me! The down side of having my aunt in the room next door is that if I got in trouble, I knew my mom and dad would be finding out about it. There were no secrets! More about that in another entry!

The kids remembered me, which was nice. My best friends, Kathie Notoro, Meg Walker, and Julie Albaugh were still there and we resumed our friendships. I didn't live in town like before so it was more difficult to get together outside school hours, but we managed! Like most friendships, we had good times and then we'd hit spells where one or more wasn't talking to one or more of the others! You could tell if we were fighting because we'd make sure our desks didn't touch. It was silly, but, hey, we were kids! I can think of very few memories where at least one of those three weren't involved.

I knew most of the other kids, too, but some I was just getting to know. Clarendon was a tough little town. I don't think we had gangs, per se, but there were plenty of kids who were "streetwise." They'd had hard lives and lived by hard rules. They weren't opposed to fighting and they let you know that they weren't afraid of you. This made me a little afraid of them, though! There were a few families in town that had a reputation. The parents were rough and the kids even moreso. Some of these kids were in my fifth grade class. They were the little sisters of the bullies in my older brothers' classes. Being the sort of new kid, I guess it was important to them to let me know that they weren't meant to be messed with. One day I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when one of them walked up to me, calm as could be, and before I knew it, she pulled back her fist and then let if fly forward, quick as can be, right in my face. I had no time to duck, to even form the thought in my mind that I was about to be punched! Her fist met my face and it sent me backwards, still in my chair, to the floor. Message received! She got in trouble. She didn't care. Her parents probably didn't care either. Her and I would actually be friendly to each other after that over the years, but I never forgot what had happened and what would happen if I ever did anything to "cross" her.

This playlist marks a very pivotal time of my life. In all of the reflections on my life it seems to break down into what life was like before Arizona and what it was like after. I don't really think that Arizona had anything to do with it, although I did think that for a very large part of my life. But, now, I think if you look at the years, that what was going on is what it mostly dealt with. It was a pivotal time in history. Everything was changing in America. We were saying goodbye to our last shred of innocence - not that reality didn't exist before then - it's just that people got tired of pretending it didn't exist. We took our ever-present smiles off of our faces and put it on t-shirts, wishing everyone a happy day!

Another impression I have of this time was the music. Music was changing. My brother, Ed, was now listening to groups like Creedence Clearwater Revival and Steppenwolf, to name a couple. This music was different. The voices weren't the smooth polish of The Association or The Seekers. The messages weren't about bubble gum or sappy love songs. The songs were increasingly about freedom - from morals, from tradition, from authority. America was fed up with a war that they didn't understand and double standards they were tired of being held to. Voices were raspy and edgy which conveyed the urgency. Beats were primal and driving. References to drugs were either straightforward or in code, introducing new slang to our vocabulary.

Experimentation was everywhere - in music and in social scenes. Drugs seemed to explode on the consciousness of America. Had they always been there and I had just been cocooned enough that I hadn't noticed? Probably - but I just had never been familiar with all this new terminology that was fast becoming part of our everyday language. Horror stories of what people were doing while strung out on drugs caught me completely off guard. People were jumping from windows, crashing to their death, thinking they could fly. The news showed footage from concerts where people were holding down others and shooting them up with drugs. Seemingly everyday, normal people were dying in such tragic ways. We heard of this huge rock concert back east, close to "home," where all of these hippies went to this farm in New York and had a party that lasted for days. Free Love - Peace - was what their banners were proclaiming but it seemed to be anything but peaceful. News coverage was sketchy as to not show the nudity, but you got the idea that there was a whole lotta free love going on there - even my little nine year old mind grasped this. The drugs seemed to make them act so strange. I had a hard time making sense of all of this commotion.

I was approaching my teen years so I would still seek and find my own heart throbs, as does every generation! The Jackson 5 came onto the scene seemingly over night. The Carpenters would provide musical balm for the masses, a respite from protestations and a reminder that, beneath it all, we still liked to sing about love and sweet things, too. Karen Carpenter's voice was as soothing as honey - a comfort. I love songs that are fraught with meaning and leave messages, but, sometimes, you just want to hear a song that is easy and doesn't demand or command. The Carpenter's are one of the main groups that filled that niche in the music industry at the time. Bread provided easy listening as well and I was a huge fan of them as well.

Personally, from the rock scene, I was loving the songs of The Guess Who, the first Canadian rock band to really hit it big in the USA. Burton Cummings' vocals still please my ear today. His original rendition of American Woman is unmatched. Lenny Kravitz did a nice cover - I enjoyed it greatly - but, honestly, Burton makes that song come alive. Who didn't love CCR? They are iconic of the era. Three Dog Night would go on to have many iconic songs as well. The story of the song on this playlist is one I pondered often as I was growing up. What would I do if I went to a party and found out that drugs were being used? How would I react? Would I be able to recognize that that's what was going on? Really - this song made me think a great deal about that situation. Simon & Garfunkel were in a class by themselves with their amazing vocals and orchestral arrangements. This whole playlist is a testament to the powerful music I am so proud to proclaim as "my" era. The music was rich and deep and would give birth to a place in history unmatched since, in my opinnion.