Memories of 1978

Memories of 1978

It was a cool mid October afternoon. I could not stand the heat and because of the cooling off, this was the perfect day. All the hot broiling days in the upper 80's to mid 90's with 80 to 100 percent humidity were long gone. Orange County North Carolina was finally settling into fall. Because of the improved weather, along with the fall conditions, one could hear radio stations from far and wide. That especially excited me.

One could especially hear from his favorite stations all the way to New York. The best music, WABC. Nothing, I mean nothing beats the flavor of a cool fall afternoon when the temperature hits no more that 65 degrees. Those were the days. Those were the awful days. There will never be days more exciting then those days.

Your only 15 years old. You wake up on a Saturday morning after a quite sucky week. You go right back to bed. You wake up again. By then it's around eleven o'clock. Cartoons, well, for the most part, they sucked. Except Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids. Now in its sixth season on CBS. Hear I am. Lying sideways on my bed with my head at the foot of the bed. The white 13 inch color Hitachi situated off to the side of my bed, just about 5 inches between the television set and my face.

Around noon or two or somewhere around that time came on World Wide Wrestling. Ah, good versus evil! Baron von Rushkie, Greg Valentine and his tag team partner Rick Flair, Ricky Steamboat, the masked superstar. I knew it was fake, but at that time in my life, it was my soap. If a bad guy turned good or the opposite happened, it stayed in my thought patterns for weeks.

In fact, I actually met Rick Flair once. This was in Raleigh at the WRAL studios. I told my friend Jon Strickland that I was going to go around back to check out if I could see some wrestlers. Lo and behold, there was Rick Flair standing next to his tag team partner Greg "the hammer" Valentine. I was star struck. What could I say? I looked at the license plate of his car. It read, "North Carolina." Then it came to me, I was going to ask Rick Flair if he was a North Carolina resident! I asked him, "Are you a North Carolina state resident?" He said, "Huh? What the hell?" Generally, he was quite nasty.

It's about noon, my father is playing the Carolina game on the stereo. Woody Durham on a Saturday afternoon. You know it's fall when your in Chapel Hill and you hear Woody calling a Carolina game on the stereo. The late seventies, Kenan stadium. A job selling programs. If all 100 were sold, I made $25 dollars and got to see the Tar Heels play in Kenan. I can remember the great feeling carrying the $25 dollars and spending around 40 cents on a homemade coke from Jeff's Confectionery, then walking over to the Record Bar and buying a copy of Bob James Touchdown. Nothing beat making your own money. Much greater than allowance.

There were bad days, however, in the program selling business. I can remember a very literally and figuratively dark day where a tall black kid that I knew in high school stole my programs. He called me poindexter. Stupidly, I held out a wallet where I kept my money and he took the 70+ dollars and started running away. I chased him from the stadium parking lot, all the way to the old-well. I then yelled POLICE! He then dropped most of the money kept, $25.....To be continued.


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