Tag Archives: 1970s

Not Exactly Love: A Memoir by Betty Hafner

GoodReads For Women

Alt=Not Exactly Love: A Memoir by Betty Hafner

It was 1969, and all the rules were changing, when Betty, a woefully single French teacher on Long Island, met the handsome but edgy new teacher at her school, a hippie just back from Woodstock. His vitality opened up a new world to her—but when they married, his rages turned against her, and often ended with physical violence. Like millions of women who discover they’ve married an abusive man, Betty was forced to make daily decisions—to suppress her feelings or risk confrontation, to keep it secret or report, and ultimately, to live with it or leave.

Part memoir, part warm-hearted look at the ’70s, and part therapeutic journey, Not Exactly Love: A Memoir is an intense and inspirational story of a woman who grew from her experience


It’s 1969, on Long Island, NY, unmarried and single French teacher, Betty, meets a…

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Protests, Unrest & Flares: An Analysis of ’70s Fashion Then and Now

Something a little different. Happy Friday!


70s trend - GivenchyGivenchy 1973

It’s safe to say that the 70s are having a moment. You can barely turn your head without catching sight of wide legged trousers, metallic, jumpsuits or platform shoes – and any Pinterest fiend will be able to tell you that even in the world of interior trends, old-school crafts like macramé and crochet are having a revival too.

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The First Time I Almost Died: An Excerpt From the Memoir – The Making of a Miscreant

Joe B Lee

Searbury Rd in Cherry Hill, Baltimore, MD Seabury Rd in Cherry Hill, Baltimore, MD

I don’t know if I woke up that morning with a plan or, like many boys, decided to turn found junk into opportunity.  Or perhaps it was another kid’s idea.  But the plan on a hot, sunny, summer’s day in the early 1970’s was to catch some frogs.  Nothing at all unique about this endeavor for rural pre-teen boys, but for urban youth, it required a measure of planning and adventure.

2438 Seabury Rd in the Cherry Hill section of Baltimore, MD was home.  It was my home.  I lived in Section 8 housing but I didn’t know it at the time.  A single mom and two boys living in an apartment on the right-hand side of the court, eventually moved to a townhouse over on the left.  That court was our world and we did not often venture far beyond its borders…

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