Forever is not Forever

Forever 21 was on the verge of bankruptcy when it was purchased by some company called Forever 91.  No one knew what to expect.  

Grand opening showed a line that stretched from Cheesecake Factory to Red Robin, with a mixture of girls and old ladies.  The girls clustered and giggled as they watched the old ladies laugh at the girls. Apparently they had worn that stuff in 1969, and they looked better in them, way hot. I know I did: hot!

The doors opened and the females moved in quickly and then they screeched to a stop.

When stores close

Where had the store gone?  Where were the skater shorts? Crystal Doll? City Studio? Swimsuits that exist in the strands of fabric only? Jewelry was obscene and expensive.

Forever 91?  The open door provided shopping carts and scooters ready for use, to be used by the 91 group.  Old ladies races to the carts, shrieking and laughing. The lady walkers were the best, quicker. 

styles across the ages

WELL, the carnage did not go well.  Old lady clothes someway appealed to the skinny giggles 16 year old girls. Why, it is not known. 

So there you have it. The Old may be old, but oh my, do not get in their way. The youngsters lost interest, decided to go to local arcades. 

I told my gr-daughter (8 yr. old) about turning store to a Forever 91 really upset her. We went to Starbucks, all was well with the world.

Infinite Jest

Times change, without a doubt.  As technology made photographs more accessible and cheap, every family documented big events.  Burgeoning photo albums showed the styles of the 1960s and the 1970s.  Silly hair styles and mini-skirts were part of the albums.

Movie cameras shrank from complicated monsters with four blinding headlights to hand-held quiet 8 mm cameras, capturing the silliness of my era. 

We were the hippy generation, the postwar baby boomers.  Long straight hair and ‘hot pants’ were the style; leisure suits were for dressing up.  We documented our life together with photo and film.

Because we were diligent in recording our history and obsessive about keeping those films, we have a new position in the minds of our grown children:

                           We are their source of INFINITE JEST.

At Christmas 2012, I arranged to transfer a big box of 8 mm film to DVD, with my narration and background music.  I don’t know what reaction I expected.  

What we did get were peals of laughter, OMG-dad-you-were-such-a-geek, and LOL-mom-you-were-so-hot.

Our grandchildren will have hours of diversion and entertainment with our visual legacy to our progeny.  

Hours and hours of infinite jest.