Last night, as Cecile and I were watching TV, we began talking about how things had changed since we were kids in the '70's. Cecile asked if I had ever called the "Beepline". I had never heard of Beepline, but she explained that you would call a certain number, there would be a loud "beep". You would wait for a second ''beep" and there would be someone to talk to. Apparently, this was a glitch in Ma Bell's system and worked differently depending on where you lived. I googled "Beepline" and found that from the early 60's to the early 80's, Beepline served as an early chat room for teenagers. In some places, if you dialed a busy number, you could hear kids talking between the busy signals. Bob Greene described this in his book "Be True to Your School". I somehow missed this phenomenon.
The conversation then led to how phones had changed. When I was a kid, most phones were the rotary dial type. For you younger readers, a rotary dial phone had a wheel attached to the front of the phone with 10 holes around the edge, 1 thru 0 with the corresponding letters. To dial, you put your finger in the appropriate hole and turned the wheel counter-clockwise to the curved metal stop. You then released the wheel and it rotated back. It made a distinctive sound. ZIIIP! as you dialed the number and HMMMMMM! as it rotated back. You had to repeat this 7 times to dial a phone number. Some people had "touchtone" phones, with a button for each number. It seemed to be unbelieveably modern and spaceage. In the late 60's and early 70's phone numbers looked different too. This first 2 digits were called the "exchange" and was represented by a word. For instance, my phone number in 1970 was 529-2381, or Jackson 9-2381. this was most often abbreviated to JA9-2381. Cecile's family had a party line, where 2 to 3 families shared a phone line. Each family had a different "ring" and if you wanted to make a call, you picked up the reciever and listened to see if anyone was talking or if there was a dial tone. Most families had only one phone, and to get an extension was a big deal. I don't remember having a phone in my room until later in high school.
The phone conversation led to a conversation about television. As prehistoric as it might seem to someone under 30, there was a time when we only got 4 channels: 4,6,8 and 13. And channel 4 didn't come in very well! Sometimes if the reception was really poor, Dad would have to go outside and turn the TV antennae to improve the picture. Oh sorry youngsters, back up. A TV antennae was a metal grid attached to a pole on the side of the house that rose above the roofline to catch the TV signal. To change the channel on the TV, you didn't press a button on a remote, only "rich" people had remotes till well into the 70's. No, to change the channel, you got up off your rear, walked across the room to the TV and twisted the knob to the desired channel. Or you asked the closest child to do it for you. At my house, it worked something like this: "Todd, would you put the TV on Channel 8?" "But, Dad, I hate "60 Minutes" and "My Three Sons" will be on soon!"
"Just change the channel, Todd.......NOT SO FAST!!!! YOU'LL RUIN THE TUNER!!!"
Color TV wasn't all that common until the 70's either. Our first color TV was a 20" Magnavox on a rolling cart that Dad bought in 1971. 20" was a pretty big TV for the time. The biggest was a 25" console TV, but they were really expensive. About $400 at a time when the average family income was about $10,000 a year.
Cecile and I laughed about how each night was scheduled around favorite TV shows and if President Nixon was making a speech, you were screwed! I can still remember it clearly, sitting in the floor of the Den, wrapped in an afghan, an 8 ounce bottle of Coke and a bowl of popcorn beside me. Excuse me, I need to see if I can find a rerun of "My Three Sons" on one of my 400 channels.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Who'd Have Thunk It?
Picture it, Ball State, September 8, 1985. I had moved into Elliott Hall for my last year of college. Elliott Hall was the Senior dorm, a beautiful, old, Tudor Gothic building built in the late 1930's. 3 stories tall, Women lived on the the first and third floor and men on the second. I had made quick friends with two guys across the hall, John and Mike. After a long morning of unpacking clothes and hanging Led Zepplin posters all three of us were ready to eat. Anything. Even dorm food. We walked downstairs and through the ornate Jacobean lounge and into the small TV lounge that was filled with 6 sofas. 2 girls were sitting on one of the sofas watching TV. One was blonde and fair skinned. The other had tanned olive skin, big brown eyes, and long, curly, dark hair. Big 80's hair. Mike asked them what time the Dining Room opened and the dark haired one replied, "11:30, I think" As we walked down the stairs to the Dining Room, Mike commented to me, "Cute girl." As we sat down to eat, the two girls from TV lounge walked in and sat down with us. Pretty soon, there were about 8-10 of us sitting together talking and making plans for a party that evening. The dark-haired girl had ended up sitting next to me. I found out here name was Cecile Rossi, a biology major from Indianapolis.
That night, the party was in full swing. 15 people crowded into one 12x15 dorm room. Music, food, drink and of course, the ever-present euchre game. Cecile and I ended up as partners at euchre. Thus started a comfortable pattern. All of us in and out of each others rooms, being typical college students. A couple of days later, John mentioned that he was going out with Cecile. "Damn," I thought, "I was going to ask her out!" Cecile and I had a 9am class in the same building and ended up walking to class together, laughing and talking. One Friday night, about 2 weeks after school started, a group of us made plans to go to King's Corner, a nightclub located just off campus. As it ended up, Cecile and I were the only two people that didn't have dates that night. John apparently had to do laundry. As we sat there talking, we discovered that we had been born on the exact same day. The song, "What I Like About You" by the Romantics began playing. We jumped on the dance floor and danced. The next song was Billy Idol's "Mony, Mony" I don't remember the rest of the songs, but we hardly sat down the rest of the night. As we left, and the 6 of us climbed into my 1978 Buick Regal, Cecile managed to sit in the middle of the front seat. God, I miss bench seats!
The next Thursday, on the way to class, I asked Cecile if she and John were going to 25 cent beer night at Bash Riprocks that evening. "I'll go if you go," she replied. "What about John?" I asked. She told me that she had only gone out with John once and just wasn't interested in him. Later that day, I went up to Cecile's room to let her know what time everyone was leaving. As I left a note on her message board, I noticed John had left her a similar message. "Great," I thought, "This will be uncomfortable." And so it proved. As the group of us walked down University Avenue toward The Village, Cecile walked in the middle with John on her left and I on her right. After that night, it was understood. Cecile and I were a couple. I had always heard that when you meet "the one", you'll know right away. Apparently, we knew. After having met on September 8, 1985, we were engaged on October 28, 1985. On August 30, 1986, we were married.
That night, the party was in full swing. 15 people crowded into one 12x15 dorm room. Music, food, drink and of course, the ever-present euchre game. Cecile and I ended up as partners at euchre. Thus started a comfortable pattern. All of us in and out of each others rooms, being typical college students. A couple of days later, John mentioned that he was going out with Cecile. "Damn," I thought, "I was going to ask her out!" Cecile and I had a 9am class in the same building and ended up walking to class together, laughing and talking. One Friday night, about 2 weeks after school started, a group of us made plans to go to King's Corner, a nightclub located just off campus. As it ended up, Cecile and I were the only two people that didn't have dates that night. John apparently had to do laundry. As we sat there talking, we discovered that we had been born on the exact same day. The song, "What I Like About You" by the Romantics began playing. We jumped on the dance floor and danced. The next song was Billy Idol's "Mony, Mony" I don't remember the rest of the songs, but we hardly sat down the rest of the night. As we left, and the 6 of us climbed into my 1978 Buick Regal, Cecile managed to sit in the middle of the front seat. God, I miss bench seats!
The next Thursday, on the way to class, I asked Cecile if she and John were going to 25 cent beer night at Bash Riprocks that evening. "I'll go if you go," she replied. "What about John?" I asked. She told me that she had only gone out with John once and just wasn't interested in him. Later that day, I went up to Cecile's room to let her know what time everyone was leaving. As I left a note on her message board, I noticed John had left her a similar message. "Great," I thought, "This will be uncomfortable." And so it proved. As the group of us walked down University Avenue toward The Village, Cecile walked in the middle with John on her left and I on her right. After that night, it was understood. Cecile and I were a couple. I had always heard that when you meet "the one", you'll know right away. Apparently, we knew. After having met on September 8, 1985, we were engaged on October 28, 1985. On August 30, 1986, we were married.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Roller Coasters: the Sequel
Last night I talked about my first trip to Kings Island. Yesterday, as Cecile and I walked up to The Beast, we talked about what it was like when we were in high school. Yes, that dim, long ago time, commonly referred to as "Back Before Dirt". Growing up in the 70's was interesting to say the least. We were stuck between the hippies of the 60's and the capitalists of the 80's. One rite of passage for us that has endured to this day, is the "First Trip To Kings Island Without Your Parents." This most commonly happens the first spring or summer after one obtains their Drivers License and after they have received the communion of a consecrated english muffin and a sip of tomato juice symbolizing the body and blood of Henry Ford. Teenagers descend upon Kings Island in droves. My first trip as such was May 3, 1980. The day after Junior Prom. The day dawned sunny and warm and my friend, Tom and I traveled down Interstate 74 to Cincinnati. Freedom, wonderful, wonderful, freedom. We were dressed in the height of late 70's teenage style. Cutoff jean shorts and black T-shirts. Preferably, AC/DC or Q-95. The Beast was "The Ride" in 1980. It had opened the year before and was still the tallest, fastest, longest roller coaster in the world. The line stretched all the way to the pond and almost to the Antique Cars. The thing that sticks in my mind the most was the almost total absence of adults over 30. Families seemed to stick to Hanna -Barbera land and Coney Mall and wouldn't go near The Beast. Built to resemble an abandoned mill, it looked intimidating enough. As we wound our was through the queues we could see carved in the wood: Jeff loves Debbie, Sherry loves Troy, Jeff loves Sherry, Debbie loves Troy. and assorted vulgarities that decorum forbids mentioning here. The water that used to stand by the loading station was full floating debris, mainly cigarette butts. And that water smelled........well, bad. But the most prevalent odor was that of cigarette smoke and uh, well, the odor that comes from a certain plant, that when dried and rolled up in paper and burned, induces intoxication. In 1980, it was passed around openly without fear of reprisal. Yesterday, as Cecile and I walked through the queues, surrounded by young children, we talked about how that would never happen now. Too many young children and old fogies (like ourselves). The Beast is no longer young either. Rough around the edges and showing its age in places, it can still rattle your teeth and send you screaming into it's double helix finale.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Ups and Downs of Riding Roller Coasters at 47
Cecile and I just returned from a trip to Kings Island. It certainly wasn't our first trip and certainly won't be our last. We had a great time, although we didn't attack the park with the same gusto we would have 25 or even 5 years ago.
We reminisced about our trips there as children. I remember mine very well. When Kings Island opened in 1972, the media blitz was mind-boggling. If that weren't enough, The Brady Bunch actually filmed an episode there; sending every child in Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana into spasms of begging and pleading. "pleeeeeeeeeezzzzze, Dad??????????" " I will make my bed everyday, until I'm 18, 21, 25, 30! Pleeeeeeeeezzzzzzze?" Until, worn down to a nub, parents would submit to the will of their crazed off-spring. At least that's the way it worked at my house. It took two years, but my father, a World War II veteran, knew he had as much chance of winning this one as Japan had after Hiroshima. I was nothing if not persistent.
I drafted my cousin Dave, to go with me. Dave, being three years older than I, was a worldly 14 years old and would surely know the ins and outs of riding the biggest, meanest, fastest roller coaster at Kings Island: The Racer. So finally, on a hot, summer day in 1974, we arrived at the park. After depositing Mom and Dad on a bench, we were off to tackle The Racer. I must add here that my parents weren't at all daredevils. Truth be known, my dad, the purple heart decorated, World War II Staff Sargent vet, afraid of nothing man, turned pale at the thought of riding the ferris wheel, much less a roller coaster. My mom was terrified of heights, and besides, those Benson and Hedges in her purse weren't going to smoke themselves! Back to our story..... Dave and I walked down the midway and I looked up to see the towering structure of The Racer looming over the midway. "100' tall, I heard Dave say." At least I think that is what he said. I was busy trying to control my bladder and not pee down my leg and into my new Adidas tennis shoes. We entered the queues, and unlike these days, they were completely full. I had at least an hour to contemplate my impending demise. When we finally entered the station house, my life flashed before my eyes. Being 11, it didn't take long. Dave pointed to the red train and informed me that the red one was the fastest and always beat the blue train. He herded me on to the red train and we began our ascent. Like any good Episcopal boy, I crossed myself and commended my soul to my maker. Suddenly we were at the top. We seemed to hang in mid-air for a moment and then began barreling like a rocket down the hill. My scream was lost in my throat, but by the time we reached the bottom and began flying up the second hill, I was hooked. Laughing like demented maniac, I couldn't get enough.
Now, 36 years later, the thrill is still the same, although my taste runs more toward the new Diamondback roller coaster. Over twice as tall and and almost twice as fast as The Racer, it offers truly insane airtime, that wonderful floating feeling as you float out of your seat as you crest each hill. It also offers individual raised seats so that your feet do not touch the floor. There are no sides on the cars, basically just the seats perched on a rolling platform, offering a very clear view of the ground over 200 ft below.
The Racer is still there, and I still think it is great fun, but one thing is different from my trips to Kings Island as a kid......Why does EVERYTHING hurt tonight?
We reminisced about our trips there as children. I remember mine very well. When Kings Island opened in 1972, the media blitz was mind-boggling. If that weren't enough, The Brady Bunch actually filmed an episode there; sending every child in Ohio, Kentucky and Indiana into spasms of begging and pleading. "pleeeeeeeeeezzzzze, Dad??????????" " I will make my bed everyday, until I'm 18, 21, 25, 30! Pleeeeeeeeezzzzzzze?" Until, worn down to a nub, parents would submit to the will of their crazed off-spring. At least that's the way it worked at my house. It took two years, but my father, a World War II veteran, knew he had as much chance of winning this one as Japan had after Hiroshima. I was nothing if not persistent.
I drafted my cousin Dave, to go with me. Dave, being three years older than I, was a worldly 14 years old and would surely know the ins and outs of riding the biggest, meanest, fastest roller coaster at Kings Island: The Racer. So finally, on a hot, summer day in 1974, we arrived at the park. After depositing Mom and Dad on a bench, we were off to tackle The Racer. I must add here that my parents weren't at all daredevils. Truth be known, my dad, the purple heart decorated, World War II Staff Sargent vet, afraid of nothing man, turned pale at the thought of riding the ferris wheel, much less a roller coaster. My mom was terrified of heights, and besides, those Benson and Hedges in her purse weren't going to smoke themselves! Back to our story..... Dave and I walked down the midway and I looked up to see the towering structure of The Racer looming over the midway. "100' tall, I heard Dave say." At least I think that is what he said. I was busy trying to control my bladder and not pee down my leg and into my new Adidas tennis shoes. We entered the queues, and unlike these days, they were completely full. I had at least an hour to contemplate my impending demise. When we finally entered the station house, my life flashed before my eyes. Being 11, it didn't take long. Dave pointed to the red train and informed me that the red one was the fastest and always beat the blue train. He herded me on to the red train and we began our ascent. Like any good Episcopal boy, I crossed myself and commended my soul to my maker. Suddenly we were at the top. We seemed to hang in mid-air for a moment and then began barreling like a rocket down the hill. My scream was lost in my throat, but by the time we reached the bottom and began flying up the second hill, I was hooked. Laughing like demented maniac, I couldn't get enough.
Now, 36 years later, the thrill is still the same, although my taste runs more toward the new Diamondback roller coaster. Over twice as tall and and almost twice as fast as The Racer, it offers truly insane airtime, that wonderful floating feeling as you float out of your seat as you crest each hill. It also offers individual raised seats so that your feet do not touch the floor. There are no sides on the cars, basically just the seats perched on a rolling platform, offering a very clear view of the ground over 200 ft below.
The Racer is still there, and I still think it is great fun, but one thing is different from my trips to Kings Island as a kid......Why does EVERYTHING hurt tonight?
Saturday, August 21, 2010
My Son, My Friend
As the father of a 20 year old college student, I think I have seen it all. Since November 17, 1989, I have successfully navigated my way as a father through 3am feedings, diaper rash, learning to ride a bike, first day of school, moving to a new town, bullies, first love, first heartbreak, drivers license, first accident, 2 proms, high school graduation, being drunk, nursing a hangover, first day of college, and being Vice-President of his fraternity. I don't think there is much I have missed. I have enjoyed every minute. Well, almost. His car accident and subsequent 24 hour stay in the hospital come to mind. He came into this world at a whopping 10 lbs 5oz. causing every nurse at Community Hospital to remark to each other about the huge baby that had just been born and wince in pain at the thought of it! These days, He is 6' tall and I look up to him. I look up to him more than just physically. He has grown to be quite a responsible man. He is double majoring in Biology and Economics at IU and plans to go on to med school. He works and deftly handles all the responsibilities and challenges that go with his fraternity. Andrew has gone from the little boy who crawled up in my lap and asked me to read him a book or to watch Barney or Power Rangers, to reteaching me Algebra. Our time together now is limited to school breaks and the occasional weekend, but when we are together, it is a comfortable time of watching "The Big Bang Theory" and laughing at things that are probably only funny to us. The Ellington wit a little off-beat, but it works for us! He is my son and my friend. And I am his very proud Dad.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Getting Started
Hmmm. My first blog. I have a couple of friends with blogs and I enjoy reading them, so I decided to give it a try myself. Some background about me is probably in order. I am IU Dad, meaning I am the father of a junior at Indiana University. That also means there is a constant drain on my checking account : "Hey Dad, have you mailed my rent check for this month?" It also means I have the joy of watching my son grow and mature into a responsible and dedicated man. More on Andrew later.
I am also a husband. As of August 30, Cecile and I will be married for 24 years. Quite a long time, calendar-wise, but I find myself thinking, "How can it have been 24 years?" "Surely, I've done the math wrong, because there is no way someone as young as myself could be married for 24 years!" Then reality hits me. "Dude, you are 47 years old!" "Pushing 50!" "2010-1986=24" No way around it. I have been married for 24 years. It also occurs to me that as of this year, I will be married longer than I was single!
I was born on June 21, 1963, a surprise for my 38 year old mother, 45 year old father, and 16 year old sister. Some of my earliest memories revolve around my sister, Lea, and hanging out with her friends at Frisch's Drive In in New Castle. We called it "The Frisbee" and all the cool kids hung out there. The music is what I remember the most. The soundtrack from the mid-60's was and remains incredible: The Beatles, The Stones, The Dave Clark Five, it was the British Invasion and I got hooked on the sounds and it is still my favorite music. Well, time is running short and I must get myself ready to head to work if I wish to remain gainfully employed, and I do. Later!
I am also a husband. As of August 30, Cecile and I will be married for 24 years. Quite a long time, calendar-wise, but I find myself thinking, "How can it have been 24 years?" "Surely, I've done the math wrong, because there is no way someone as young as myself could be married for 24 years!" Then reality hits me. "Dude, you are 47 years old!" "Pushing 50!" "2010-1986=24" No way around it. I have been married for 24 years. It also occurs to me that as of this year, I will be married longer than I was single!
I was born on June 21, 1963, a surprise for my 38 year old mother, 45 year old father, and 16 year old sister. Some of my earliest memories revolve around my sister, Lea, and hanging out with her friends at Frisch's Drive In in New Castle. We called it "The Frisbee" and all the cool kids hung out there. The music is what I remember the most. The soundtrack from the mid-60's was and remains incredible: The Beatles, The Stones, The Dave Clark Five, it was the British Invasion and I got hooked on the sounds and it is still my favorite music. Well, time is running short and I must get myself ready to head to work if I wish to remain gainfully employed, and I do. Later!
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