60s Nostalgia


After reading The Boomer Chronicles and her blog about 60s memories, I rummaged around to find some old ticket stubs.

This is what I was doing in August of 1964:



Addendum:
In case you can't see it clearly, the concert ticket was $4.75 and the movie ticket was $1.25. Of the two, I only had to pay for the movie ticket.

At the time, I was waiting tables at my uncle's restaurant. One of the regulars was a local concert promoter. He gave me two tickets to the Beatles concert as a tip. I was ecstatic!

Comments

Anonymous said…
I love all the nostalgia we can acess! The Whitney had an exhibit on the Summer of Love and it sparked a lot of thinking of that decade.

I read Rhea's post, too.
January 09, 2008 2:35 pm
Anonymous said…
Hi, Ell,
you came by and wished me a happy birthday last month. So, I've found you to wish you a wonderful 2008. Best to you!
January 11, 2008 5:44 am
Anonymous said…
I so remember those days. :-)
January 18, 2008 10:18 am
Anonymous said…
How neat! I saw the movie but didn't go to their concert. I wish I had and am glad you did. Such good memories about lots of things then and some not so good.
January 23, 2008 11:16 pm
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Deus Ex Machina

Debra liked the demented, the dark and the surreal. It reflected her personality. From a young age, she’d realized there was no such thing as happy endings. The pursuit of happiness was for the delusional. To the world, she presented a hard, been knocked around, can take care of myself, so don’t fuck with me veneer. She didn’t believe in fairy tales -- unless they were told by Tim Burton. Yet, in the back of her mind, she harboured the faint hope that there might be a happy ever after for her. Of course, she never allowed anyone to see this hopefulness. So, now, here she was lying on a white sand beach. She couldn’t remember how she got there. She looked down at herself. She was dressed all in white; white slacks, white blouse, white pumps. She strained to remember something – anything. It was surreal; a scene from the Twilight Zone. Wasn’t there a scene like this in Contact where Jodie Foster’s character meets her dead father on a beach? Maybe she was dead. Maybe she wa...
Read more

Sunday Scribblings: A Rome Walk

Image
or "Are you sure we turn here?" There's something exciting about not quite knowing where you're going. For the sake of this prompt, I'm talking about walks, but it could apply to life in general. This prompt has also given me the opportunity to revisit my trip to Rome taken almost exactly one year ago . It's not that I don't know where I'm going, it's just that I'm not quite sure how to get there. I'd spent months prior to our trip armed with a multitude of maps and guides and had a pretty good mental map of central Rome. Or so I thought. Funny how places aren't quite the same when you actually get there. We were leaving Castel Sant'Angelo where we'd spent the last two hours combing the dark and slightly creepy stone corridors and surveying the expanse of Rome from the parapets. It was nearing twilight and we wanted to see the Trevi Fountain before searching out a place for dinner. So, out we head into darkening Rome. I...
Read more

My Nights

If left to my own devices – no job or early morning commitments – I'd be up most nights until dawn. I'm a night person. I like the solitude. I like the stillness. I like the wrap-around black coziness and the inky-black eeriness; the disconnectedness that sometimes leads to hidden and surprising insights to my soul. Perhaps, these insights were there all along, submerged below the surface of my daytime consciousness – unable to break through because of the noise and clutter of everyday life. I don't know. What I do know is that those niggling, back of the brain feelings ignored during the day because I'm too busy or too pre-occupied, break out full blown at night. The solution to problems, so unanswerable during the day, becomes obvious and self-evident at night. Thoughts and feelings, long ago forgotten become unforgotten. At night, all things seem possible. The line between reality and dream; conscious and sub-conscious thin and fade in those late-night hou...
Read more