Business flourished and everyone had jobs, even us in high school. We learned to drive on our parent's and grandparent's hand-me-down classic muscle cars. Malibos, Monte Carlos, and Impalas. We could blow $10 in gas just cruising the avenue with those big V-8s. We were the last generation to be told by our elders that each time we 'burned rubber' it was equal to laying quarters down over the entire black mark, and until we wrecked one or two, we actually thought you could jump a car across a gorge like they did the General Lee.

We had the distinct privilege of being the only generation to be inadvertently influenced by TV and movies. We were raised up with Uncle Jesse, Starsky and Hutch, Chips, Charlie's Angles, the Incredible Hulk, the A-Team, the Fall Guy, and many more. Even though we really didn't like it, Dallas influenced us greatly. We had the 'need for speed', action, and adventure, but we had to be laughing all the way. Ghostbusters, Smokey & the Bandit, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jaws, Beverly Hills Cop, Rambo, Caddyshack, Star Wars, Top Gun, Stripes, Crocodile Dundee, and even the deceased John Wayne all inspired us immensely.

We'd joked of homosexuals, but then we were starting to actually see them. We were shocked that after all those years we hadn't been able to tell. School was tough in the eighties. If you weren't 'cool', you somehow became 'gay.' I never did figure that one out. Peer pressure was on. You had to have sex, drink, and smoke or you were gay. That ambiance devastated a lot of lives then. Aunts and Uncles and neighbors and friends and even our parents started getting divorced, and it was a big deal. We had only heard of divorce until then in tales kept hushed.

Then as the decade started its downhill slide, the music began to reflect our attitude. It was now cool to drink and do drugs and have sex and we did. The music moved from mystical, thick chords, trivial pentigrams and satanic symbols, to the glam-slam, big-hair cheese, fun metal. Poison said it best with "ain't lookin' for nothin' but a good time, and it don't get better than this." Sex, drugs, and rock~n~roll were in, and we delved neck-deep in it. We rocked and we snorted and we drank and we smoked and we screwed and we paid! AIDS became more than a headline in New York and Los Angeles, the cost of drunk driving and drug possession skyrocketed. We started paying child support, and we grew sick of living with a bunch of friends in a party house. To pay for all this, we soon learned that we had to work, and our bosses made us cut our hair, and then what hair we had left turned gray.

It couldn't have lasted forever, fads never do. The long hair, the spandex, the bright colors, the attitude. The music got phony and ridiculous. The great Def Leppard came out with the epitome of cheese in their tune "Do You Wanna get Rocked" and Poison signed their death warrant with "Unskinny Bop." The kids below us grew nauseous of the frivolous music, so they darkened it and dubbed it grunge. Their idols shave their heads, wore flannel, and were repulsive people in general. We think about how they would have been laughed off the stage in our day, and get depressed when we hear the lyrics.

So now, we've changed. I guess time and society always dose that to good things. Now days we feel the same way at 11:30pm as we used to watching the sun come up and popping another beer. We still go to the OZZY or AC~DC concerts when they come to town, but it's different. It's just not the same with your girlfriend or wife. It's not the same when you're not sharing a flask of 151 with about eight buddies, and trying to get laid or in a fight.

Now on the rare occasion that we're not going to have the kids or significant other around, we stop by the store and get a six pack, and go home and listen to our old CDs, tapes, and records. After a few beers we reminisce back to our "Youth Gone Wild" and we still sing along with "Cherry Pie" and "Girls,Girls,Girls", and "You've Got Another Thing Comin." As the tunes flow and the booze stimulates, we wonder what has happened to us. We are so different, so domesticated. Who'd of thought?

Then you pass out. You wake up the next morning feeling like you've been ate by a coyote and shit off a cliff. You go to the refrigerator and see there is still one beer remaining from the six pack and you feel embarrassed you're such a light-weight. Then you drink a cup of coffee, take your vitamins, and ibuprofen for your hang-over. You read the paper and it all slips away for another six months or so.

--Stacy Foster