Write about the “best” classic pop music and readers will respond from the heart, soul and gut. I’ve learned that lesson during the past couple of weeks after first revealing my favorites from the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s, and then following up with responses from readers who had their own favorites.
An East Coast friend, who was infected by Beatlemania in 1964 and has never recovered, could not believe I failed to include a Beatles song in my favorites from the three early decades of the rock ’n’ roll era. In last Sunday’s column, I took up a challenge from another friend: Pick one song from the ’50s, one from the ’60s and one from the ’70s that were especially meaningful. That “still moved me,” he said.
I’m preparing for my high school class reunion by visiting with friends and getting assurances they will attend. In one of those conversations, the music of our youth came up. A friend said: “Got a challenge for you. If you could pick one song from the ’50s, one from the ’60s and one from the ’70s – that still get to you when you hear them now – what would they be?”
Two surveys by the Gallop organization go a long way to explain North Dakotans’ satisfaction with what some might define as the status quo. The results also suggest that the majority political class in the state can rest easy as election time nears.
People my age pay more attention to medical news. As a card-carrying member of the baby boom generation (that would be a Social Security card), I am in that category, as are many of my gracefully aging friends.
The phoniest argument “no” voters trotted out during their dishonest campaign to hamstring the Fargo School District’s budgeting flexibility was their self-righteous irritation that Davies High School was built without voter approval. If ever there was a canard predicated on perverse stupidity that was it.
Last week, I slipped on the ice on a downtown Fargo sidewalk, and nearly went down. Instead of landing as ungracefully as possible, which would have been the smart thing to do, I fought gravity, avoided a pratfall and twisted one of my aging knees.
I’m not sure when the term “Beatlemania” became part of the language, but it was an apt description of what exploded onto the American scene in February 50 years ago. I remember the time as if it were yesterday.
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