I remember four-digit phone numbers and dial phones.
I remember the Fonz and Archie Bunker.
I remember when LBJ meant the President (Lyndon B Johnson) and not a basketball player (LeBron James).
I remember the California Raisins, Louis the Lizard and the Budweiser Frogs.
I remember pin curls, home perms, garter belts and push-up bras.
I remember Dick and Pat, Jack and Jackie, Ronnie and Nancy, Jimmy and Roslyn, Bonnie and Clyde, Steve McQueen and Ali McGraw, Liz and Dick, Ken and Barbie.
I remember when you had to get up and cross the room to change the channel.
I remember gas station attendants, newsstands and soda fountains.
I remember consciousness raising, est and transcendental meditation.
I remember Bullitt, The Godfather, and The French Connection.
I remember Led Zepplin, Pink Floyd and Marvin Gaye.
I remember Sergeant Pepper, Tricky Dick and Flower Power.
I remember the Bouffant, the Beehive, the Shag, the D.A, The Wet Look, The Dry Look and Greasy Kid Stuff.
I remember Joy, "the most expensive perfume in the world" and "Modess...because"
I remember Pan Am and TWA.
I remember disco and Donna Summer, hula hoops and Rubik's cubes.
I remember lots but I can't remember:
- What I had for dinner last night.
- Where I put my glasses
- Why I went into the kitchen and what I was going to do there
- Why I clicked on Google and what I wanted to look up (Thanks to Anne R. Allen for this one!)
If you remember what I remember, you might enjoy the amazing and awesome adventures of no-BS Blake Weston and ex-cop Ralph Marino as they navigate their way through the past, face the future and solve a murder. Who says sixty isn't sexy?
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