Kat's Rambling Mind

As I sat here enjoying a beautiful spring evening, the song “Reminiscing” by Little River Band came up in my playlist and I was transported back to a time that was simpler. Well, at least things were simple for me, as I was younger then with no real responsibilities except for schoolwork and a few chores. I remember it well…

It’s a Saturday evening in March, 1978. I’m sitting in my room in front of my three panel makeup mirror, a gift for my recent 13th birthday. I plug in my Mom’s set of Clairol Kindness hot rollers, the plastic ones with the spikes around the rollers and those funny u-shaped clips. As I wind my hair around the red-hot plastic cylinders and roll it down to my scalp, it occurs to me that there isn’t much about those rollers that seems particularly kind. The metal clips start to pick up heat from the rollers, and I place some cotton around the tops of my ears to keep them from getting burned. Ah well, beauty takes effort (and pain), or so the magazines say.



While my haphazardly rolled coiffure is setting, I adjust the radio station to WFOX 97.1, Gainesville, GA, home of the weekly American Top 40 Countdown with Casey Kasem, and the sound of ABBA and “Take A Chance On Me” fills the room. I bop around a little, selecting my outfit as my hair continues to cool. Finally, I have it: my Saturday night skating ensemble. I’ve chosen my trusty orange tag Levi’s jeans, the ones with the leather triangle on the back pocket, a bright pink tee with a glittery silver design on the front, and my buffalo sandals. The weather had been sunny with temperatures in the high 60s to low 70s, so short sleeves and sandals weather was definitely here.





I lay the clothes on the bed and sit down at the mirror to painstakingly apply the scant amount of makeup I’m allowed to wear: mascara, a dash of frosted pearl eyeshadow on my lids, some pale pink blush, and of course, my Kissing Potion lip gloss. Not that I had anyone to kiss yet, but a girl must be prepared lest Romeo on wheels should roll up to sweep me off my feet.



With my makeup done, I carefully start to unwind my rollers. My hair looks very large and curly, so I bend at the waist and flip my head over, brushing furiously in order to try and tame it a little. When I flip my head back my hair is even larger, so I start brushing it down. After a few minutes and a bit of help from Mom, I get the best semblance of Farrah Fawcett’s winged hairdo that I could hope to achieve. One spritz (and one spritz only, per Mom’s instructions) of White Shoulders cologne spray, and at last, I am ready. Considering myself in the full-length mirror, I decide that I am the height of casual fashion for 1978, and note that my outfit is almost identical to the one I saw in Teen magazine earlier that month.

It is 6:30 PM. I pack my skate bag with my white boot skates with the glittery silver wheels. I’ve changed out the laces and pompoms to match my outfit, of course. I liked for everything to be coordinated, and tonight was no exception. Mom drops me off at the front door, and I jump out of the car and head inside, looking for my friends.



We skate to rock, disco, and funk hits of the day; all-skate, couples-skate (would someone ask me to skate this week?!), dance-skate, and my favorite, reverse-skate. The song “Groove Line” by Heatwave comes on, and we settle into a rhythmic roll-bounce pattern as we circle around. The inexpensive disco lighting seems amazing to us, and the feeling of gliding along almost as if we’re flying was heady stuff. Did that boy just smile at me? Judging from the giggles and sudden prodding by my friends, I think he may have!

Before long, 2-1/2 hours have passed, and it’s 9:00. The older teenagers are starting to come in, and I knew Mom or Dad were waiting in the parking lot to collect me and shuttle me home. I swear I’m not tired as I yawn while we’re pulling back into our driveway. I drop my skate bag into the garage cabinet and head inside. I put on my gown and wash my face, and switch my radio on very low to see if I can keep Mom and Dad from hearing it. The song “Reminiscing” by Little River Band comes on, and I start to drift off to sleep.

Are we ever as innocent and carefree as we are at the age of 13? Perched on the cusp of the teenage years, yet with one foot still lingering in childhood. I count myself lucky to have had good friends to spend time with, grow up with, and for a few, to grow old with.

A very exciting Saturday night, indeed, both in 1978 and now.