Properly Subversive/Sherman R. Frederick
I know now that school dances of my youth in the 1960s and ‘70s were coming-of-age rituals.
Sherman Frederick
Parents bought into the idea that these events were a safe and organized place for girls and boys to hang out and mix appropriately. I can only speak for boys, but we were driven to attend because maybe — just maybe — we’d catch the opportunity to touch a girl’s waist and shoulder in a darkened crowd.
The days of “girls have cooties” were quickly fading.
There were rules, of course.
Proper dance posture meant holding hands (my left, her right) and the other hand lightly touching her hip. A gap between lower torsos at all times. If you began to drape each other, the chaperones would remind you to “leave space.”
In my town, churches also held regular dances. Vigilant chaperones kept a watchful eye for hip contact. When detected, you got a tap on shoulder and told to “Make room for the Holy Ghost.” I often wondered how teachers, priests and Mormon moms could chaperone these dances and seemingly remain unaware of the power of Etta James belting out the song “At Last.”
If you don’t want hip contact don’t play that song because hip space quickly disappeared.
And, it was a beautiful thing.
DREAMING OF MARS
I dreamt of Sputnik and John Glenn.
I dreamt of circling the Earth and maybe – maybe – landing on the moon. That dream ended abruptly in 4th grade when I got barf-o-rama sick at recess twirling on the swings outside Mrs. Piltcher’s classroom. I knew then my astronaut days were over.
Nevertheless, I remember those days of gazing into the night sky, Nehi grape soda in hand, and wondering why Russians would send a dog in space with no intentions of bringing it back alive.
Poor Laika.
Damn Russkies.
Those were my dreams. Today, however, forget the moon. Now kids dream of Mars and one day living there. The days of Sputnik replaced with dreams about a Space-X Starliner shuttling to Mars on the hour, Monday through Friday.
Space-X CEO Elon Musk says in 24 months he plans to send a Starship to Mars without a crew to test landing reliability. Then, if all goes well, a crewed ship will head to Mars.
He’s talking about 2028 or thereabouts. Flight rates will grow exponentially from there and the dream of building a self-sustaining city will be within reach in 20 years.
Damn cool stuff.
Too late for me Now I sit here on my writing porch in the cool of the morning at age 73 doing the math on when humans might legitimately plan for travel to Mars. Maybe even move there.
My grandkids? Maybe.
My great-grandkids? For sure.
The idea of progeny born on Mars gets my juices flowing.
Maybe I should save a copy of this newspaper and clip a note to it that says:
“Happy Birthday my favorite Martian.”
The kid won’t get the reference — does anyone remember Ray Walston and Bill Bixby?
Nevertheless, I’ll clip a $20 bill to the newspaper and say “enjoy”.
What do you think $20 will buy a Martian kid in 2068?
(Thanks for reading Properly Subversive. Remember to laugh a little, avoid soreheads and always question authority. You can find more PS columns at https://shermanfrederick.
ONE MORE THING
