eighties

My gay prom date

~ MaryG ~ 16 Comments

I went to my junior prom with my friend John, who was gay. He was a year older than me and we were good friends and I needed a date, so I asked him. I think I probably knew deep down that he was gay, but hoped he wasn’t. He was so cute!

Back in the early 80s, nobody was out in high school. I had lots of male friends from choir, marching band, church and plays who later came out as gay. Thinking back, John, Jonathan, Adam, Benji, Jamie and Tommy made high school way more fun. One thing they all had in common was their ability to talk to girls. There was no awkwardness. We had so much fun and so many laughs.

I remember going into Newbury Street (Boston’s fanciest shopping street) with John and pretending we were very rich kids (like the Trumps or the Hiltons) and acting like we were about to hop into all the high-end cars. Then we would use our pathetic fake IDs to get served frozen strawberry margaritas at TGI Friday’s. I remember sitting with Jamie & Adam at the local ice cream stand blasting Bruce Springsteen and singing along. Adam was an incredible singer and always got a lead role in the musicals. John was also a fantastic dancer. We had a ton of fun dancing to 80s pop hits. We all liked to dress up and go to screenings of the “Rocky Horror Picture Show” in Boston. We’d dance The Time Warp in front of the screen and throw toast at the appropriate line. Benji and I played a husband and wife (Mr. and Mrs. Squires) in The Music Man and we had a lot of fun with it. We named one of our diminutive fellow cast members “Billy” and pretended he was our son throughout the show. Billy Squires—get it? (It was an 80s thing.) Tommy was less flamboyant. He was from a large Catholic family and took church very seriously. He wanted to become a priest.

These guys were some of my best pals in high school, but there was a bit of a necessary separation after graduation. I’m sure their journeys to being who they really were wasn’t easy. Benji died in some sort of unexplained accident shortly after graduation and we all saw each other at his funeral. It was awful. Sadly, I heard that Jamie died of AIDS in the later 80s.

I reconnected with Jonathan at our 20th high school reunion and went to visit him in Chicago. I still see Adam and Tommy on Facebook and they are both married to wonderful men and doing well.

Fortunately, my romantic crush on John was short-lived. I think he tried to like me back, but it quickly became apparent that making out was just not working for us. I have no idea where he is now, but I do hope he’s alive and well and still dancing. God he was a good dancer.

Class of ‘87

~ MaryG ~ 23 Comments

I have a couple of updates for you on the college class of 1987 (high school class of 1983). Most of us were born in 1965, so we are turning 60 this year. One of my best friends from college turned 60 yesterday. She broke the ice. Now the rest of us will follow…if we’re lucky. Making it to 60 is not a given. We’ve lost people—mostly to cancer, but sudden massive heart attacks have taken down a few of the men.

I appear to be the only grandparent in my college class of about 500, which is wild. A few people still have kids in high school, so I guess we tended to have kids late, but still…it’s a vivid illustration that the birthrate actually has cratered in this country.

Another observation is that people truly do age differently. Some people look 40 at 60, and some look 80. Money seems to be a factor, but not the only one. Most people are still working, but they’re either talking about retirement or saying they will never be able to retire. “Work ‘til I die” is some people’s retirement plan.

There is both a lot of concern—and a fair bit of bragging—about adult children in their 20s. “You’re only as happy as your least happy child” seems to be true. (But if you’re posting an effusive happy birthday message, with multiple pictures, for a 27-year old who doesn’t even use Facebook, you may need to let go a bit.)

Our parents, if we still have them, are very old now. I know of only one other classmate with two living parents like me. More of our mothers are still alive than our fathers.

For the first and oldest official GenXers, the Eighties was our decade. Nobody has quite so many formative memories of those years as we do. Do not challenge us to an 80s trivia quiz, because we will win. And we will also look back on it all with slightly rose-colored glasses. We’ll forget the bad stuff and laugh about that time we ate pot brownies at school and Mr. Ullman’s physics class finally made sense.

I never did see anyone get pizza delivered to a class like Jeff Spicoli, but that would have been amazing.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High came out the summer before our senior year in high school.
My 1984 look
The pizza delivery scene

Knee socks

~ MaryG ~ 14 Comments

Today’s realization from The Great Photo Digitization Project of 2025 (inspired by the tragic California wildfires) is that I was an extremely well-dressed child. (My own kids were nowhere near as well-dressed as my sister and I were.)

And this was before the era of “fast fashion,” so my mother made many of our dresses and outfits.

We always had matching accessories too. Note the headband in this shot:

With my baby cousin Steven and Aunt Betsy, 1971

In my old photo albums, one accessory is featured more than all the others and that is color-coordinated knee socks. I remember having a drawer full of them. Thinking back, they were pretty cool because they came in so many different colors and were way more comfortable than tights.

Knee socks and a matching purse for the first day of first grade
November 1972
Note the “milk box” near the front door (I am old)
Heading off to Town Day 1973

Facilitated by my mother and a Marshall’s opening up in my town in the late 70s (“Brand Names for Less”), I ended up being a major clothes horse right through high school. I embraced the Reagan era “preppy look” and had dozens of sweaters in every color of the rainbow. My closet looked like a Benetton store.

My high school preppy look

It wasn’t until I tried to fit all my clothes into a tiny freshman dorm closet that I realized how ridiculously many I had.

My 80s friend

~ MaryG ~ 11 Comments

At Christmas dinner yesterday, my father told me he had run into my old friend Debbie at the fish market. They recognized each other and exchanged some quick pleasantries.

Debbie and I were neighborhood friends who ended up becoming close friends for many years. She knew my parents well and I knew her family too. Her dad was a great guy. We took several trips to California and Florida in our late teens and twenties. We did a fair number of edgy things together including lots of underage drinking, shoplifting, dine-n-dashing, and at least one crazy 80s Spring Break trip to Fort Lauderdale. (Wet t-shirt contest anyone?) Debbie was 18 months older than me (a year ahead of me in high school) and liked to party and dance. I’m sure my first nightclub experience was with her. Even though she was a true redhead, she loved the sun like I did and we went to the beach as often as possible. We went skiing a few times too and once spun out in my mother’s car driving in a snowstorm. We did a 180 and hit the guardrail. (Debbie was driving at the time and we were fine.) In fact, we wanted to carry on with our ski trip with one headlight dangling, but when we called my parents from a gas station, they made us come home.

Debbie and I stayed friends for many years through a variety of life experiences including her being severely burned in a freak accident. (I remember visiting her in Shriner’s Burn Center where I saw the most horrifically scarred young children.) We knew each other’s deepest, darkest secrets. We attended each other’s weddings and then drifted apart as we became mothers and got busy raising kids. Still, we sent Christmas cards and occasionally saw each other in person.

Then, at some point during the second Obama administration her right-leaning political posts on Facebook caused a tiff between us. We unfriended each other and that was that. Some years later, I felt badly about it, but figured she had probably morphed into a Trump supporter, so what would be the purpose of reaching out. We were too different by then.

You know that expression about some friends being for a reason, some for a season, and some for a lifetime? Well, at one point I might’ve thought we’d be friends for a lifetime, but it turns out we were friends for a season. And our season was the 1980s. Big time.

Christmas 1989 (towards the end of our close friendship)

If I had to pick one song that tends to trigger a Debbie memory, it would be Kool & the Gang’s Celebration. I picture us dancing around in front of a mirror, sipping some alcohol, while we made our hair as big & fluffy as possible for whatever came next.

Charm Bracelet

~ MaryG ~ 18 Comments

Back in the 70s, charm bracelets were a common gift for girls. Typically girls got the bracelet with one or two “charms” as a first gift and then additional charms for birthdays and Christmases ever after.

Charms were little silver representations of some hobby or activity that the girl liked to do.

I loved my charm bracelet. I have kept it in a box in my closet for decades now. It lives with a bunch of other sentimental jewelry that I no longer wear, but cannot part with.

I recently bought some of those tiny silver polishing cloths to shine up some old jewelry and decided to clean my charm bracelet.

As we very eagerly await the birth of my granddaughter sometime within the next two weeks, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to show it to her and tell her about the meaning of all the charms.

There are 17 charms on my bracelet. Most represent things that were important to me as a child and teenager.

Counterclockwise from 1 o’clock:

  1. Santa’s sleigh (I loved Christmas!)
  2. An upright piano, just like the one I played
  3. A Camp Fire Girls 5-years charm (I had forgotten how important the CFG were to me)
  4. A set of silver bells (not sure why I had those, but I’m assuming they were Christmas-related)
  5. A Camp Fire Girls 6-years charm
  6. The B-1 Bomber (Unusual, yes, but my Dad was an engineer and a pilot and his company made some navigational components for the B-1. He was always going to California on business and he must have brought this charm back from one of his trips.)
  7. An ice skate – I loved figure skating.
  8. A tall ship, probably the USS Constitution. The bicentennial in 1976 was a very big deal in Massachusetts. The tall ships visit to Boston was a part of it.
  9. A baton (I loved twirling and being a majorette in high school)
  10. A tennis racket and ball (I had forgotten, but I was quite serious about tennis for several years. I made it to the club finals in singles one summer. I played on the high school team for a year or two.)
  11. A starfish – I loved the beach. (I ill-advisedly took a starfish home with me one time and that thing reeked like hell for months. It was probably still alive and I didn’t realize it. Poor starfish.)
  12. Mickey Mouse – I was one of those very lucky kids in the 70s whose parents took them to Disneyland.
  13. A heart with my birthstone in it
  14. Another Camp Fire Girls charm – my mom was a leader of our group
  15. The Eiffel Tower (I hadn’t been to Paris back then, but I must’ve liked the idea. I sure did love it later on in life.)
  16. A saguaro 🌵 cactus that says Tucson. I had an aunt and six cousins that lived out West. My grandmother would periodically move out there to help them.
  17. The last one is a bit of a mystery. Maybe it’s supposed to be a bicycle. I loved riding my bike. But it looks a bit more like a moped. I remember seeing mopeds a lot on our visits to Nantucket and Block Island, but people were constantly getting seriously injured on them. I don’t think my parents ever let us ride them, so let’s just go with bicycle for that one.

The City

~ MaryG ~ 26 Comments

Growing up in Massachusetts, I should have visited New York City before age 18, but I did not. For some reason, my parents never took us there, even though my mother’s parents were true Brooklynites—Dodgers fans before “dem bums” moved to LA. I remember my grandmother always pronounced certain words the Brooklyn way—“earl” for oil and “erster” for oyster. (My grandparents moved to Worcester, Massachusetts early in their marriage and never returned to Brooklyn.)

I first went to NYC on a bus from my college in Hartford in the mid eighties. We went for the day. I’ll never forget seeing those vertigo-inducing Manhattan skyscrapers for the first time. New York is so much bigger and taller than all the other American cities. Chicago, Miami, Philly, DC, LA, San Francisco, and of course Boston, are all special in their own ways, but New York is the greatest of them all. (And I say this as someone who grew up despising the New York Yankees.)

On that very first trip to NYC, I remember a shopkeeper asked me where I was from and I said “How do you know I’m not from New York?” He answered, “Because you’re not wearing black and you smiled and said thank you.” He guessed I was from Connecticut. Also, on that same trip, my friend Ann told me to quit gawking and saying things like “I can’t believe I’m in NEW YORK.”

I was determined to expose my kids to NYC before they were 18, so they wouldn’t seem so naive and Connecticutty when they visited.

A photo I took of my sister in NYC in 1987. (She was living there at the time and did not give Connecticut vibes like I did.)
My friend Andreada in Washington Square Park in 1988. That was a wild trip. NYC in the late 80s was a bit scary. I had to sit near a nasty perv on the bus down and got robbed of my leather coat while I was out at a bar. AIDS and drug addiction were casting a pall.
My daughter in the Empire State Building, 2005
My son’s first trip to NYC, 2011
A mini-reunion with high school friends in Manhattan in 2011.

In 2018, I just HAD to see Hamilton on Broadway, so my friend Dina and I planned to go down for the day in late March. I thought we’d be safe from winter storms, so I bought tickets to a matinee. But then a freak spring snowstorm was forecast so we went down on the train the night before, so as to not miss the show. Well, the snowstorm was so bad that they cancelled our Amtrak home and we had to stay over a second night. It was quite a snowy adventure! We ended up running into a friend who took us to see a second Broadway show (Carousel starring Renée Fleming) for free. (She had extra tickets because her friends wouldn’t brave the snow.) We ate at the famous Sardi’s restaurant after the show.

The Hamilton marquis on Broadway, 2018
My friend Dina outside the Bryant Park Grill in March 2018. Amtrak shut down for two days due to this little bit of snow! We took the bus home instead.

I went back to NYC for a conference the following month. There was no sign of snow then. I think that was my last trip to the City. I’m not sure when I’ll go back again, but I will.

GenX President

~ MaryG ~ 18 Comments

How would you describe yourself to someone?

I walked into a newly-energized gathering of Democratic activists yesterday and a man said, “Mary, I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been thinking about how much you look like her all week.” Then he called me over to sit near him. He was so excited I was there. It was almost like he transferred his happiness about Kamala onto me for a couple of hours. I was flattered.

The fact is, we don’t look that much alike, but she will most certainly be MY president. (Fingers and toes crossed.) We are both 59. She was born in the fall of 1964 and I was born in the spring of 1965. Like the Obamas, she’s culturally, if not technically, GenX.

I did see a bit of myself in this picture of her from the eighties. It’s not just the slight physical resemblance and the very 80s haircut. It’s the look on her face. We were young women going through the same period of history at exactly the same age. It wasn’t always easy.

Photo of Harris in the 80s (posted by Hillary Clinton last week)
Me in the eighties with my mullet hair

She says she’s 5’ 7.5” in heels. I’m 5’ 8” barefoot. So I guess I’ll wear flats (Chuck Taylors), if I dress up as her for Halloween. At least I know one person who will love my costume.

Vice President Harris in her Chucks

The King of Cruel Nicknames

~ MaryG ~ 15 Comments

What’s the story behind your nickname?

I wasn’t going to respond to this prompt, but then thoughtful posts by Singing Gecko and Books by Asher got me thinking.

Growing up in the 70s, kids (mostly boys) were constantly coming up with cruel nicknames for classmates, usually other boys. However, girls were not always spared. A couple of boys decided to call me “Popeye” in 5th or 6th grade because of my large eyes. I was so upset about it. I cried and cried. I think my mother finally intervened and spoke to a teacher (which was not her usual style), after the typical advice given to girls back then did not work: “They’re teasing you because they LIKE you” (worst advice ever!)

These memories made me think of the question Kamala Harris has been posing: What kind of a country do we want to be? It’s actually a great question.

Do we want to go back to the time when casual bullying, based on appearance/race/sexual orientation flowed like water from the tap? (If you grew up in the 70s and 80s, you know what I’m talking about.) Or do we want to live in a country where differences are celebrated and everyone feels included? DEI (short for Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) should not be used as a slur. And it makes me sick that it’s being used that way against Harris.

I honestly think the cruelty is the point with Trump and his followers.

Image from Pexels

Bucket List

~ MaryG ~ 8 Comments
Daily writing prompt
What countries do you want to visit?
View all responses

Speaking of buckets…way to go Boston Celtics! 🏀☘️ NBA championship #18.

This morning’s Boston Globe

I started a Bucket List (I’ve heard some say “Life List”) in the notepad app on my phone a couple years ago. I update it whenever the mood strikes. Sometimes a TV show, movie or book will shake up the order. For example, I read a book called “Independent People” by Haldór Laxness (a Nobel prize winner in literature) which resulted in Iceland getting booted from my list.

Here’s the latest version:
Grand Canyon ✅
Paris ✅
Finger Lakes & Hot Air Balloon ✅
Tanglewood
Yellowstone National Park
Ireland
NYC comedy club or SNL
Southern Italy (Naples; Amalfi Coast; Cinque Terra) and maybe Sicily
Sweden
Return to Paris in warmer weather and see the sites we missed
Argentina?
Return to SoCal – LA/San Diego; Santa Monica; Venice Beach; Yosemite; Joshua Tree?
Key West
Austin TX
Greece
Acadia National Park

An image from my last trip to LA (you know, the city that’s won 17 NBA championships)
The year was 1988 and George H.W. Bush was on the ballot.

My friend Julie (the eventual artist) made sure we visited the Watts Towers in South Los Angeles.

The famous Watts Towers in LA—a renegade 33-year folk art project by Italian immigrant construction worker and tile mason Simon “Sam” Rodia
Apparently some part of it was closed that day, but we got the idea. It’s very cool—a labor of love.

Watts Towers State Park