I may not have lived through the 70s, but through the stories I’ve heard, the music I’ve grown to love, and the emotions they still stir, I’ve come to feel connected to that incredible time in a way that’s deeply personal. There is something that cannot be overlooked about the 1970s. It may have been the way music poured out of all speakers, car stereos, record shops, living rooms, and even diners late one night. The songs weren’t just background tunes. They had become part of our existence, woven throughout our aspirations, our disappointments, and our dreams. If you were living at the time, you know where I’m coming from. And if you weren’t, then let me attempt to take you back to what it was like to be a child in a time when everything, from the music to our morals, was evolving.
When John Wayne Made Way for Alan Alda
Men just needed to be quiet and stoic then. That’s what we learned. John Wayne never cried. He never talked about feelings. He simply got the work done. And that’s what we saw as manhood. But something started changing. I remember watching MASH*, and there was Alan Alda, a smart, funny, sentimental doctor who wasn’t afraid to stand up or cry. He was nice. He wasn’t afraid to be a hero the new way. He was a new breed of man. Watching him unsettled some of us at first, but also, maybe, made us feel a little more seen. Suddenly, it was okay to be tougher than tough. It was okay to be kind. That shift crept into everyday life, too. Dads hugged their kids more. Friends actually spoke. And for many men, including myself, it was like stepping out of a hard shell we didn’t know we had on.
The Things We Once Accepted
Looking back, it is difficult to imagine what we swallowed so readily. Everybody smoked everywhere—on planes, in offices, even in hospital waiting rooms. Teachers had wooden paddles in their desks. Your boss made a coarse comment or put their hand on someone’s shoulder a little bit too long, and people looked away. No one asked questions regarding these matters much, not due to a lack of interest, but because that was just how it was. But slowly, we did start paying attention. The women’s movement, the environmental movement, and more discourse regarding respect in the workplace allowed us to see things differently. They complained about what was wrong. And though it took some time, we did start listening.
Playing for Peanuts, and for Love
Weekends were spent blowing trumpet in a small band. We were not local stars, but we loved what we did. We played smoky clubs, high school dances, even weddings where no one danced until someone’s aunt set the example. One of our favorite places to hang out was a club called Bimbos. It was run by Steve “Froggy” Morris and had a sort of joyful chaos. The floor was always littered with peanut shells, and at the back of the club was an actual fire truck where people sat around and told stories like it was a front porch. We were paid just enough to keep going, but the music made us rich in all the ways that really count.
The Soundtrack of a Revolution
If you wish to know the soul of the 1970s, listen to the sound. These were not mere catchy songs. These were dialogues. These were demonstrations. These were prayers. Carole King, Bob Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, Janis Joplin, Marvin Gaye—they put words to feelings we didn’t know how to say. They wrote of war and peace, of love and isolation, of dreams and disillusionment. Their voices echo today, not as reminders of yesterday, but as reminders of just how much farther we’ve traveled and how far we have left to go.
Why It Still Matters
The world has come so far since then, but the seventies’ lessons remain. We learned to doubt what we heard. We learned that not all progress is fast or easy, but it can be done. We learned that music can open hearts in a way that speeches cannot. Now we have other wars to wage, but the need to listen, care, and grow has not decreased. If anything, it is more important today than ever. So if you ever want to feel what it was like to wake up to change, play a record from the seventies. Close your eyes. Let the music take you there. It might just make you hear something new, even now.
