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|Subject: Re: note on non-employment||Date: 9/7/2013 1:53 PM|
|Author: flyerboys||Number: 433359 of 467433|
With the exception of June Cleaver's pearls and high heels in the kitchen, life for a kid with a stay-at-home mom in the 1960s (and 50s) was not all that different from the Cleavers.
Me and my family, right down to no heels or pearls, exactly. However, I also remember that when "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis" came along I found it "normal" also. Southern California beach kid that I was, complete with a guy I am convinced was the model for Maynard G. Krebs (he had the goatee and would play wild alto sax solos into the storm drain outlet at "D&W Beach" where I surfed mornings before Jr. High), the flow from the Beaver to mild mannered existentialism made sense.
After all, Rio Bravo had already hit the crazy notes.
Although there was stress and suffering before, 1968 was the year that everything broke, cracked, and went mad.
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