Dodge Darts, Fila Sweaters and Suicide: The Danger of Facades

What I remember from that time, 40 years hence, was being acutely aware that part of my youth was going away. See, I was an unremitting nostalgist long before I began posting lists of 90’s songs on Facebook. But what I really intuited was a shift, maybe of values. It seemed like the final transition from our more modest life in the flats of Van Nuys to a posher existence in the Jewish Alps of Encino. And even then, with only my gut and intense sensitivity to guide me, I sensed a hollowness in the striving. So much so that my parents remember me finally blurting out the reason I was so upset. Sounding like a ten year-old mini-Marxist, I apparently yelled “It’s because you’re selling out!’