Clique Magic. Just like when I was in high school, fads rule because every last one of them have this need to be “accepted” by the latest special feature section of the yearbook. How else are they gonna get their picture in there more than once?
Gotta have the latest weird bell bottoms, tie-dye shirts, dingbat hats, Beatle Boots with taps. Smoking the right brand of cigarette, and the list goes on and on.
Me? Never was allowed to go to school in jeans and anything other than a button down shirt. Cars, cars, cars. Weekends tearing them apart at my great Uncle’s saddlery business in SW Ohio (Okeana) where he also had all sorts of vehicles in all sorts of states of repair or disassembly. Watching the news daily of hoping and praying my dad was not just a number on the casualty lists from Viet Nam. Looking forward to the Saturday edition of the Paul Harvey show on the AM radio while we had our lunch of fresh cut Bologna sandwiches, Lay’s potato(e) chips and Mountain Dew. Life was grand.
These are the things and many more like it that kept me from being sucked into the Clique magic crowds. Today’s kids being raised by bigger kids has lost all perspective and challenge on a daily basis and the phenomena of desperately being “Liked” by people they have no idea who they are. Trophies for all, identity crisis abound all because the idea they can fail has never been introduced as a concept to learn from rather than being scorned “forever” by faceless names who really couldn’t give a crap if you live or die.
My $0.02 worth. and that is being generous to its real value.
when I was in grade school, north entrance was marked “boys” the south entrance was “girls”....boys played with boys and girls played with girls. but alas that was 1949...