MEMORY

he small postcard announced the 50th reunion for Colonie Central High School’s class of 1972. Should I go? Rummaging through a pile of books in a closet, I found the yearbook. Looking at the bouffant hairdos and ’70s fashions, I was overcome by memories and dragged out my photo albums with the yellowing, poorly lit Kodak photos and started my trip down Memory Lane.

I got my first pair of bell bottoms at Denby’s on State Street in Albany in 1966. The British invasion was in full swing. Twiggy was on the cover of Vogue, and miniskirts with go-go boots were all the rage. In home ec. class, we made miniskirts that measured 15 inches from waist to hem while we learned how to install a zipper. I was Team Paul: Beatlemania had me swooning over the long-haired quartet who were irreverent and shocking to my parents, which made them even more attractive. I loved recreating Beatles’ harmonies as I sang along on my 8-transistor portable radio until the 9-volt battery wore out.

To set the mood, I set my Pandora station to “’60s classics” and flipped through the photo album pages, humming along to The Rolling Stones, The Dave Clark Five, Herman’s Hermits, Tom Jones and Lulu. I recalled using my weekly allowance at Grant’s Department Store in Albany to buy the latest 45s of the Supremes’ “Stop! In the Name of Love” and the Four Seasons’ “Rag Doll.” Leslie Gore tapped into young love angst with “It’s My Party” and its follow-up teen revenge tune “Judy’s Turn to Cry.” The Beach Boys galvanized my imagination with their West Coast surfer vibe.

Funny how I can remember these lyrics without even thinking, yet I can’t remember what I did yesterday unless I look at my datebook.

Back then I looked forward to Saturday night dances at Pine Grove Methodist Church. Circling the dance floor until the music started and we could pair up, these events were precursors to future mating rituals. Squeaky cold metal fold-