So, enough with all this slacking, agreed? Agreed. I believe I promised The Internet pictures and stories from 1974, right? Well, okay. I can do that. Here’s what I’ve found out from scouring my mom’s hoard of old family pictures….
When 1974 began, I was about one and a half years old (and still mostly bald) (of course). I used to go on lots of rainy wintery neighborhood walks with my Mom around our gray Seattle suburb. But, hey, check out my snazzy red walking suit!
Yeah, go ahead and say it. I can take it. I looked like a beardless garden gnome.
*sigh*
Apparently, I was a dog person from the very beginning because I unearthed several shots of me
Ahh, good ol’ 1974, when dogs could just roam the ‘hood without pesky hindrances like owners, leash laws, and litigious neighbors. Those were the days.
But anyway….
Our tour through 1974 is skipping Spring and jumping face-first right into the middle of Summer due to an absence of pictures. Apparently, my parents misplaced their camera for six or seven months…. or they were just preoccupied with other things. Like my soon-to-be-born little sister. So, here is my preggo mama (still rockin’ her bouffant beehive wig!) and me on my 2nd birthday.
I got lots of Noddy books and a Noddy doll that birthday, which were sent over from my relatives in England.
Oh God, I will never forget those Noddy books! I ended up with a whole bookshelf full of them and I remember feeling really uncomfortable about them. In a nutshell, they could have been written by Paula Deen after a bank robbery, okay? (What? Too soon?) The books were populated with “Golliwogs” in racist blackface makeup who lure Noddy into the woods and then steal all his stuff. One of them was even named N*gger. Yeah, his name was N*gger! Unbelievable.
My mom wouldn’t read the books aloud to me and I remember her pulling them all off the shelves and hiding them whenever I had friends over, so, even really young, I definitely had the idea that they were bad books. I just wasn’t sure why when I was little, but I supposed it had something to do with all the scary pictures of Noddy being robbed in the forest. When I was about seven years old, I stumbled upon the old Noddy books and hid under my bed sheets with them, like a boy with a stack of stolen Playboy magazines, reading bits of them to myself when my mom wasn’t looking—and I was shocked at what was in them.
These were children’s books????
In 2009, Noddy was, apparently, given a makeover and the Golliwogs were removed from the newest stories. (It took until 2009 for that to happen???? Really???? Wow.) I can’t seem to find my old Noddy doll on eBay or anywhere to tell you how much he sells for these days (although I’d really love to know), but you could buy the old Noddy books on eBay anywhere from $1 to $14 each, if you’re so inclined.
Okay, enough about Noddy….
For my birthday, I also got a huge orange baby carriage which, obviously, made me feel like hot stuff strutting around with it on the parquet floor.
My birthday cake, like most cakes in the 70’s, had a big, scary rubber clown head on it.
Why oh why did people feel the need to befoul perfectly good cakes with gruesome clown heads in the 70’s?! I’m telling you, I just don’t get it. Nope. Here’s a closer picture I borrowed from Etsy of some 1970’s cake topper clown heads.
*shudder*
As the Summer of 1974 rolled on, I could be found looking quite movie star-y, digging in my sandbox in my shades, handmade outfit, and Salt Water Sandals.
Did you grow up in the 70’s? If you did, I’d bet my Bee Gees lunch box that you had Salt Water Sandals too, am I right? Every kid I knew had them. I had a red pair and a white pair.
And if you grew up in Seattle in the 70’s, I bet you wore socks with your sandals too! ;-)
According to my baby book, I was talking up a storm in 1974. I said “bunnit” for bunny rabbit, “tombut” for bottom, and “alligator” for escalator. On a related note, I accidentally asked my kid to “plat in the flug iron” instead of plug in the flat iron just two days ago, so at least I’m consistent.
In early autumn of 1974, a very bizarre series of events took place which left me with no choice but to conclude that my parents had lost their wig-loving minds. But…. we’re going to have to probe through those questionable moments in an upcoming post because—*sniffle*—I’m out of bloggy time for today. I’ll be back soon, swearsies!
Wanna relive my discoveries of 1973? Click HERE. Or for 1972, click HERE.
© Coracabana
