Oh, to be living in the ’70s again
THE new Aussie movie Swinging Safari glorifies 1970s suburban cul-desac culture.
Think of wife-swapping, sideburns, safari suits and sunken living rooms.
Free university, free love, sunny days and Sunnyboys, Chiko Rolls, Reef Oil and Coon cheese and kabana sweating on toothpicks.
In the movie, which stars, among others, Guy Pearce, Kylie Minogue and Asher Keddie, the kids are left to their own devices while the parents get it on, drowning their post-Dismissal disillusionment in Ben Ean moselle and beer slabs.
I love the way it reminds me of my own 1970s childhood.
Back then, cricketers had handlebar moustaches, gold chains nestled in their luxuriant chest hair and they got someone to hold their beer while they took a catch.
Out in the suburbs, we were raising ourselves. Fuelled on orange-flavoured Tang, we’d double-dink on our Malvern Star bikes (Look, Mum, no hands) and use the Hills Hoist to land on a deathtrap metal trampoline covered in dishwashing liquid.
It was a simpler era. We spent our time taping Countdown songs on cassette tapes and wondering why our Sea Monkeys didn’t look like the pic midnight ture on the back of our Richie Rich comics. There were no helmets, no seatbelts and no gluten-free. It was life on the edge.
My dad’s 33rd birthday in 1976 was like a scene from the movie. While the kids roamed free, the adults congregated in the backyard for a 12-hour drinking session.
Mr Green got frisky with Mrs Brown in front of Mrs Green and Mr Brown (names have been changed to save potential embarrassment).
Things took a turn for the worse when everyone ran out of smokes. Then they ran out of booze. Then at they decided to go camping. Then it started raining.
But then again, that was also the day Mrs Black (yep, also changed) from down the road slipped vodka into my can of lemonade, so my memories may be a little hazy. But I do remember wishing my mum wore a bit more lippie and smoked Alpine Lights like Mrs Green (not that it did her much good, it seems).
Many of us ’70s kids are holding on to that era of freedom, trust and Roman sandals worn with long white socks. The problem is we don’t seem to be able to raise our kids the way we were raised – even though we’d love to. These days, our kids are overloved, over-protected and overpraised in ways our 1970s selves would have never considered.
A play date with a 12-year-old now involves no less than 15 texts, three phone calls, an insurance policy check, a first-aid kit, a stop at the supermarket for allergy appropriate snacks and two rides in the car.
Back then we roamed the neighbourhood freely, favouring the houses with good food, backyard pools and no rules.
Today’s anxiety and over-parenting starts in infancy, when mums and dads carry baby monitors everywhere. They are meant to make us relaxed, but they make us more anxious, riding every sigh, squeak, fart and squeal coming from the cot.
Phone apps allow parents to monitor their kids in childcare, keeping track of every piece of fruit consumed, drawing done and bowel movement made. By the time they get to school, kids are enrolled in every possible activity but given little time to get bored, make up games and engage in a little bit of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” behind the shelter shed. (OK, that might be a good thing.)
By high school, playgrounds are filled with kids sitting on iPhones snapchatting the school’s “top 10 fat girl list”, playing “hot or not” and logging on to RateMyTeacher.com.
No one is doing yoyos, elastics or knuckles. When I was a kid, our butcher’s son had real knuckles with little bits of flesh on them.
You don’t see that these days. Even something as fun as a trampoline is now spring-free and has a cage, a roof and padded sides. What’s next? Airbags? Pre-jump insurance waivers?
We were raised in the 1970s bubble but haven’t lived up to the hype.
What a disappointment for a generation conceived in muscle cars and panel vans.
THESE DAYS, OUR KIDS ARE OVER-LOVED, OVER-PROTECTED AND OVER-PRAISED IN WAYS OUR 1970S SELVES WOULD HAVE NEVER CONSIDERED.