1969 was the year I learned to fly. The world was happening and I was part of it while everything changed.

Apollo 11

Neil Armstrong walked on the moon in July 1969. I was a new mommy with a 2 months old baby boy. Home with the baby, not working or in school. I had time to see it. We watched it on CBS. Walter Cronkite wanted to be up there too. Up there, with Neil and the rest of Apollo 11. He could barely control his excitement, almost in tears, his voice breaking with emotion. The great Arthur C. Clarke was his guest for the historic broadcast.


Woodstock was just a month away and there were rumors flying about this amazing rock concert which would happen in upstate New York. Friends had tickets and were planning to go. I was busy with the baby. I wished them well.

There were hippies giving out flowers in the Haight-Ashbury area of San Francisco. I didn’t envy anyone. I was happy that year, probably happier than I’d ever been and freer than I’d ever be again.

I was young, healthy. I believed we would change the world, end war. Make the world a better place. I was still of the opinion the world could be changed. All we had to do was love one another, join together to make it happen. Vietnam was in high gear, but we believed it would end any day. Though we soon found out how terribly wrong we were, for a little bit of time, we saw the future bright and full of hope.

I had a baby boy and I sang “Everything’s Fine Right Now.” It made my baby boy laugh. Me too, because it reminded me of the Holy Modal Rounders. Look them up.

It was the year of the Miracle Mets. I watched as they took New York all the way to the top. A World Series win. 1969. What a year. I rocked my son to sleep and discovered Oktoberfest beer. New York went crazy for the Mets. It should have been the Dodgers, but they’d abandoned us for the west coast.

I wore patchwork bell-bottom jeans and rose-tinted spectacles. I had long fringes on my sleeves and a baby on my hip. Music was amazing and no matter how many ways I look at it, today’s music is an anemic imitation of the creative juices that ran in that long ago year.

How young we were! We were sure we could do anything, everything. We would end war and right every wrong. For one year, the stars aligned and everything was good.

Decades passed. Youth was a long time ago. The drugs we take control our blood pressure, not our state of consciousness. They aren’t much fun, but they keep us alive … no small feat these days.

These days, I worry about Social Security, Medicare,and if  I or the country will survive our incoming president. I am nostalgic about Richard Nixon, a true measure of just how much everything has changed. I know I can’t fix the world. I’ve lived a lifetime. My granddaughter is the age I was back then. I’ve lived in another country, celebrated a 25th anniversary. My son is eligible to join AARP. I moved from the city to the country, and partied with a President, but 1969 is still my year.


25 thoughts on “1969 – MY FAVORITE YEAR”

      1. ’69 WAS a memorable year. I got to cover many of those iconic (??) events as a network news Probie. I don’t think I appreciated how much history I was seeing up close. Matter of fact, I could’ve packed my bags after the ’67’-’69 period and gone off to never-never land to write my memoirs.
        ’69 is also fondly remembered because I got my first car. Brand spanking new, fully loaded, orange Dodge Challenger rag top. I was on top of the world, Ma.


  1. 1969 was an eventful year. I remember Mr. Swiss and No. 1 step son staying up until the early hours of the morning watching the first moon landing. I was in bed, but not sleeping. My baby had not yet arrived, and I had a big bump waiting to arrive. It was an eventful year, also for me. I remember Woodstock, and my No. 2 son has asked me “Mum were you at Woodstock” with a laugh on his face. Of course I was at Woodstock, but only in my dreams. They were the days that were.


    1. A lot of people I knew were at Woodstock, but I, like you, was in baby mama mode. Owen was born in May and Woodstock was in August. I was still nursing, so I watched it on TV, or at least I watched the traffic reports. I had to wait for the movie before I saw that show and I was never sorry I wasn’t there. All that mud and rain … not really ME 🙂 But it was a great year. The moon landing was such a huge thing and having our crazy local baseball team actually win was almost as amazing as the moon landing. They had been the clowns of the sports world: NO one took them seriously. I was happy. I was young. It was a great time to be young. But maybe it’s always a great time to be young 🙂


  2. Yay, my birth year!
    Love the poster for Woodstock. And I recognise most of the acts! “Music and Arts Fair” is a bit of a stretch, but I suppose they couldn’t put “Drug-Fuelled Hippy Convention” 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The event got away from the organizers. They didn’t expect it to be the giant event it became. It got totally out of control and the town was a mess. It was a mini eco-disaster. It took years to clean up the mess. Not my kind of scene at all. I’m not into mud and sleeping in the rain in a field. I’m more a B&B with full breakfast kind of gal 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, it seemed like everyone was pregnant. I have always been glad I had my son while I was still a kid myself. i was able to be a kid with a kid and I was still playful, something that has mostly been lost over the years. Good times. Memorable.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. A friend of our daughter is having her children in her 50’s. Three girls and they are lovely, but what an undertaking at that age. Yes I’m glad we had our children when we did.


        1. I can’t even imagine doing anything as physically demanding as giving birth and raising little ones at that age. That was about when I discovered recliners. But to each his/her own. It’s also pretty optimistic and I certainly hope it works out. I was glad I was young when my son was young. I think we had fun.

          Liked by 1 person

          1. I totally agree with you Marilyn. The thought of having a family of three at 50 would horrify me. The girls are just gorgeous but they will be very active and busy and at that time in life it would be nice to put your feet up rather than chase around three little munchkins.


            1. My son was the original whirling dervish as a toddler. I think he started to slow down when he hit his late forties. I can’t imagine kidlings when I’m trying to find an arthritis remedy that won’t mess with my stomach. Definitely, the wrong stage in life for all that — at least for me 🙂

              Liked by 1 person

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