Lads and ladies, it may shock you to know - but I remember the seventies. I know, I know, most of you weren't even alive during that particular decade - by default you'd have to be over thirty already - but I also am quite aware that I am not the only Pokébro of a certain age out there. I grew up but my love for Pokémon never died.
What was it like in those dark ages? Well, it was pretty chill. Why, in the very month I was born Led Zeppelin released Houses of the Holy - if that wasn't a portent of my future rockin' nature, I don't know what is. No doubt I was also tuned into the disco grooves - the first album I ever bought was the Bee Gees' soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever when I was six years old. I've even enjoyed the nascent electronica of the day (I still keep Warm Leatherette by The Normal on my iPhone) although I didn't discover that until I was 13. Truly, though, the seventies were the decade when rock transformed from the rebellion into art. In 1975 Springsteen's Born to Run spoke urban poetry to the chords of the electric guitar.
Another thing about the seventies - the toys were different. Yes, we had *real* *metal* *lunchboxes* with Scooby Doo on them. Plastic thermoses inside. You didn't have to go to the collector's store to get them either, they were just at the regular store. Seriously, though, one of the biggest differences - our toys didn't require so many batteries. Definitely not rechargeable batteries even. Let me posit a challenge to you younger bros and gals. Go to your local drug store and check out some D cell batteries (if you can find them). Then realize that I had a portable radio that required eight of those.
What you really won't believe, though, is that . . . I can barely admit it . . . well . . . people used to sell . . . rocks. Smooth rocks. Pretty rocks. Pet rocks. I used to have one. I loved it. I carried it with me everywhere. In a way it was, almost, like a Pokémon.