A Visit from Planet Funktar

I remember the '70s.  Rather fondly in fact.

Sometimes a little trip down memory lane can be a lot of fun, sense of humor intact of course, because really, there is no hope if you can't laugh at yourself.  When your little jaunt into the past involves the 70's and disco music, humor is a good thing, but only if it is a gentle humor.

Friday night I was reminiscing and laughing away as  I went out with friends to Classical Night Fever with the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra and Motor Booty Affair. I do remember the 70's.  I remember most of the songs that were played, although a couple of the songs dated from my days on the sidelines, where I might have been dancing in my bedroom late at night, rather than on a dance floor,   But I definitely remember the clubs, dancing all night, the clothes, the hair, the sounds of that era.  I remember the fun.

But I also remember my own naiveté — I was just a girl who wanted to dance. And dance I did, but looking back on it all, the exuberance, the humor, the anger, the sex, the drugs….. well, those things all continue to exist.  Nothing has changed, and yet everything has changed. In many ways we were all naïve then, and we are cynical now. I'm not saying the world was better then, or even now.  Just different.  I was a child of privilege, white, middle class, liberal arts college, a child pretty much oblivious to the darker sides of 70's culture. I still knew it existed though, the darker side. The walls between affluence and poverty were not quite as high, life was rougher around the edges. And I encountered this other world daily, even from my privileged world, even from my bubble of obliviousness. 

I saw it then. I still see it today, and I still see that girl, that girl who is always a part of me, that girl who still sees obliviousness as often the only sane response to coping with pain and ugliness that would otherwise overwhelm.  And perhaps today I am more kindly inclined to appreciate the power of obliviousness, not exactly innocence, but a willful blindness, an ability to live in the world, rather than separated from it by walls,  while still letting much of it wash over you without drowning.  That kind of obliviousness could also be used as a tool, when needed, to protect oneself.  Perhaps obliviousness is not the right word as I don't mean it in the sense of "not aware" but more along the lines of "not mindful of".  But enough pontificating.

Friday night was about the exuberance of youth, in spirit and memory at least.  We were all older, but all young at  heart, celebrating lost youth.  In many ways it is easier now.  We could have fun with it, embrace our younger selves with kindness, and no small measure of humor.  We could sing. We remember the YMCA. We can laugh and dance and have a good time.

How could we not?  How could we not?