There is an old picture of me and my sister, and we are standing in the driveway in front of our house. You can see our neighbor’s house directly across the street from us in the background of the picture.
It is the very early 1970s, and we are both wearing cute little mini skirts, little lacy white socks, and black patent shoes. She is a whopping 5 years older than me, so interestingly enough I look like her mini me.
I don’t remember taking this picture — I guess I was just too young, but I do remember events surrounding it. Everything about the picture is idealistically nostalgic to the time period, except for two things.
One, we both have the Beatles bowl haircut. And two, we are both throwing the bird. Far out, right?
The truth is both of those things fit right into the 70s. Can you dig it? I had to ask my mom what exactly led up to this finger-throwing situation.
Turns out that like most situations involving giving someone the bird this one has a similar root that comes out from frustration. Well, at least on my sister’s part.
My mom had picked up my sister from school and they went to run errands. I stayed home with my grandmother.
After my mom and sister arrived home, my sister came in with a new haircut. She announced to anyone who may have been listening (you know it was directed at me) that she cut her long hair off to be like the Beatles.
I pestered and pestered to try to find out what the Beatles were. I carried on so much so that my mom told me I had to stop and leave my sister alone.
The next day after my sister left for school, my mom and I went to run some errands. You’ll never guess were we ended up? Yes, at the beauty shop to get my hair cut.
I wondered how my hair was going to get cut? I think I heard my mom say the Beatles. And sure enough my long locks turned into the Beatles bowl haircut. Just like my sister’s!
Later that afternoon, I was not patiently waiting for my sister to arrive home from school. She was dropped off by her friend’s mom, and I ran out to meet my sister. Her eyes squinted, and after a long pause, she threw me the bird. I laughed and threw it back.
My mom ran into the house to get the camera, and the rest is photo history.