Legends Of The Suburbs

Last week when I was considering, researching, and blogging about the 1976 Democratic Party Convention, it made me remember the summer of 1976 and what I was doing....

I experienced The Suburbs, full-on, that summer for the first -- and probably (please dear God) -- the last time in my whole life.

I had a job as a Summer Girl during that Summer Of Jimmy Carter.
A Summer Girl is a live-in baby-sitter who helps the mother.
Some people who hire them call them a
"Mother's Helper"
instead of "Summer Girl."

Typing those songs in, last week -- "Let 'Em In," by Paul McCartney and Wings; 10cc's "The Things We Do For Love," most of all -- Elton John and Kiki Dee -- "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart"...those songs helped keep me alive, that summer.
When they would come on the radio (it was lite-top-40, and so am sure did not hear "Takin' It To The Streets" until couple years later, in Boston...) those were the happiest times. 

Then, and when I was folding clean laundry.

Once a Fleetwood Mac song was playing -- (probably "Rhiannon" or "You Make Loving Fun") and I said I liked that song, and the children's mother smiled (smiled!!) very big and said with enthusiasm, "I LOVE Fleetwood Mac!"
That was a happy moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What did I expect?  What did I think the summer would be?  I don't know.  I applied for the job out of the Sunday edition of the Big-City paper which we took, from the neighboring state over. 

What did I expect?  What I expected was to work, and to be paid, and that's what happened.
Was the work too hard?  No.
Did I dislike any of the people I worked with?  No.
Were the children adorable?  Of course.
Was the house nice?  Yes.
Would I go back?  Ever??
NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think -- I wanted to do the job for the following reasons --
-- to see something new, different from home
-- to sort of practice being a grown-up -- to learn about child-care and house-keeping -- to Learn By Doing
-- and to see the suburbs -- The.  Suburbs.
WHY?????????????? Because of two reasons.
Because my whole life, at that point, I had been aware of a sort of Image of The Suburbs as being sort of the Attainable American Dream.  Sure, there might be Dreams And Goals Of Success that were much more huge -- movie star, rock star, or something, but a Real Goal that you could probably -- GET -- would be marriage and family and a house in The Suburbs.

(Samantha Stephens in an early episode of "Bewitched" declares cheerfully, "Soon we'll be like every other American married couple -- happy, and with no problems!"  She says this while gazing out over -- you guessed it -- The.  Suburbs.  It's when she and Darrin buy the house, early in their marriage....)

And the second reason was, the Suburbs -- these suburbs -- were outside a major American metropolitan area, and I thought if the City was more Interesting than where I lived, at the time, then the Suburbs simply got me That Much Closer to --
The.
City.

So -- thought the Suburbs must be at least somewhat -- Interesting.
[Here:  SFX -- a record is playing and someone turns the ON switch to OFF, and the sound -- runs --

down. ...wah whhaa rrmbom.    {silence} ]

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
The Suburbs are really really really really really Quiet.
The house where I lived-worked was really really really really Quiet.
The windows were always closed; Central Air.
The street was quiet.
The yards were quiet.
The street was winding.
The yards were Green.

The Silence was winding and green.

I never got to know any of the neighbors, except two -- and I didn't really know them. 
The house across the street had a three-year-old boy named Robby who sometimes came out (or we went in) so that he and the three-year-old girl I was watching could play together.  So in that house I had met Robby, an older brother who did not play with us, and their mother, Mrs. W.  Never saw the dad.

And the house next door to ours had a large family -- 7 or 9 or 11 children -- some off at college, and the youngest a four-year-old who sometimes played outside (or in) with "my" three-year-old.  And I had met the mom in that house, Mrs. R. 

The woman I worked for, and Mrs. W., were approx. 31 years old -- more like "big-sister-level" figures of admiration and learning, for me -- Mrs. R., on the other hand, was in my parents' age group, or almost...that generation.
Never saw the dad in that house, either.

The Routine, in this place, was dads went to work all day and (I assumed) came home at night.  The mothers stayed home, and had summer girls, and watched children and ran the house and "the show."

I barely ever saw the father of the children I watched and cared for -- the three-year-old, and a one-and-a-half-year-old -- and I lived in the house...!  To my recollection, that man did not speak one word to me, the entire summer. 

Now, would I have wanted him talkin'-at-me constantly, all the time?  Well, no -- I would have found that weird.  But -- it never stopped being a little weird, to me, that he -- didn't speak.  At all.

He'd pass by me in the hall, or on the stairs -- but Very infrequently -- and -- there would be the Silence.
The green and winding Silence.
The green and winding Silence Of The Suburbs.

Once in a while he would be at the breakfast table, with children and wife, and I'd be either helping, or having a little breakfast, myself.  And it would be quiet, except for Child Sounds And Chatter.  And instructions from the mom.

I guess -- Well, I'd think, he doesn't talk to his wife, either -- he just isn't a talker.  That's OK.  Everyone has their own personality.

Maybe they talk to each other at night, in their bedroom, with the door shut.
I would wonder that, to myself.

Even when he was home, it was as if he wasn't there.
He seemed sort of -- un-present.
Almost like a ghost.

-----------------------------
news bulletin:  The Suburbs are boring.

thesuburbsareboring

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