© 2010 Lynsey

250 – Where were you in ’72?


I was in small town New Zealand. We finished school and, irrespective of potential or talent, most of us pointed ourselves towards factory or labouring jobs. Friday and Saturday nights cruised the main streets in cars or on motor cycles – looking for adventure, love, alcohol, drugs, parties, friends, cigarettes, games of pool under flickering fluorescent tubes – anything, really, anything to escape the crushing horizons. It was like the movie American Graffiti, but not funny. Desperate, desperate times. Unfortunately, there were some casualties along the way, and some people didn’t make it.

It’s almost unimaginable these days, but shops closed at 9:00 Friday night, and did not reopen until Monday morning. The idea of shopping on the weekend would not start to become a force for another 8-10 years. And so the local diary became the essential source of groceries – essential food lines. Able to sell vegetables but not fruit. Tomatoes were seen as vegetables, not fruit. By law. 1972. Again, unimaginable in today’s world.

How lucky, then, to find this image, direct from 1972. School uniforms, Mr Four Square, a hot chick sipping Coke from a bottle.

Manifesto
03. Every day is an opportunity to reflect on the past.
24. Every day is a journey. Not a destination.
45. Every day you are a different person.

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