That's right. For just a few days only, the Kindle version of my book THE ME GENERATION... BY ME (GROWING UP IN THE '60s) will be sale for only $.99. That's an 81% discount. It's the perfect gift for the holidays, especially for baby boomers (so in other words -- your parents, co-workers, aging hippies, or you). The book chronicles my attempting to grow up in Southern California during the most turbulent and drugged-out decade of the century. It's all here -- the California Myth, the Sunset Strip, psychedelia, the space race, the Summer of Love, student unrest, sitting home while others had sex. Here's where you go to order. Seriously, this sale is only for a few days. So take advantage. Enjoy a fun ride and support this blog for only $.99.
Here's an excerpt: I turned 16 on Valentine’s Day. This is a bigger milestone for girls. Guys do not have Sweet Sixteen parties. They just get their driver’s license.
Unless they have no depth perception, took the exam in a Chevy Impala the size of an aircraft carrier, and failed the test miserably. Happy birthday to me.
The worst part was that I had to wait several weeks to re-take the exam. So everybody
knew I failed. To save face – because how humiliating to say you couldn’t parallel park – I just said I hit a guy.
After much practice, re-taking the test in my mom’s Mercury Comet (a car that could fit in the Impala’s glove compartment), I finally passed and got that elusive passport to freedom.
Which meant I finally went out on a real first date. I was still way too intimidated to ask Bev Fine so I asked Marcy Loudon. I wanted to get a few rejections under my belt first so I could better withstand Bev’s ultimate lethal blow. Amazingly, Marcy said yes and that Saturday night I took her to the Corbin Theater on Ventura Blvd. to see one of the great date movies of all-time,
To Kill A Mockingbird. The plan was to put my arm around her about halfway into the film. It was tough though finding just that right moment in the rape trial. I think I got up the courage and draped my arm around her just as Tom is shot to death while trying to escape from jail.
For a nightcap I took Marcy to Farrell’s Ice Cream parlor where we discussed the differences between the movie and the book, and I had her home by midnight. A quick peck on the cheek and that was it.
All girls had curfews back then. Midnight was standard. The penalty for violation was usually grounding. Grounding was actually an effective deterrent in 1966 – at least for the girls I dated. I’m sure my classmate who slept with own her brother didn’t give a shit if she couldn’t go to the Spring Sing. But the girls I dated always insisted on being home by twelve. And I choose to believe it was because of that severe penalty. Please allow me that little fantasy.