1973
I started watching an interesting 2006 television drama on Brit Box called, “Life on Mars.” At first glance, the title is very misleading. Life on Mars is about a police detective (played by John Simm) who is hit by a car, resulting in a coma. While in the coma, he is hurled back to the year 1973. He finds himself working in a police department in his old neighborhood. During this time, he visits his mother (as she was in 1973) and even catches a glimpse of his father and his four-year-old self. The time travel piece is very interesting to say the least, given the accuracy of the music, hair styles, clothes, shoes, cars, food, and nearly every aspect of living.
What strikes me the most is the contrast between how women are perceived and treated in 1973 versus the last twenty plus years. For example, women were not trained to be police officers and are basically there to look pretty, fetch coffee and tend to administrative duties. The policemen (or Copper’s as the British like to say) are heavy drinkers, smokers and do a lot of punching out the bad guys and each other. They are constantly touching women inappropriately and making disrespectful comments toward and about women. The men taunt each other by calling each other by female names. The realities of 1973 should not come as a surprise to me or anyone who grew up in the 60’s and 70’ s. Life on Mars is quite a blast from the past.
My dad was an auto mechanic and had a one-stop shop for everything cars. The “station” took up a large corner of a village block with an automobile service center. He had five service bays, an automatic car wash and two self-serve bays, gasoline (with convenience store items), auto parts, tires, snow plowing, towing, as well as selling snow mobiles, minibikes and other all-terrain vehicles. He had a small backroom decorated in Snap-On Tools girly calendars. He and his employees would end the week drinking and relaxing in the back room on Saturday night. Honestly, the Station was a great place to grow up. I didn’t think twice about growing up in a man’s world and being perceived more or less as something pleasant to look at. I was the cute teenage girl pumping gas and giving change at the cash register. Looking back, being pretty and slim were societal values and were modeled for us everywhere, including television, magazines, movies and advertisements.
Living on Mars brought back memories of a different time and place. Most of us didn’t question it. I understand now why it’s called “Life on Mars,” because the contrast is striking. Not only the music, clothes, hair styles, cars, telephones, procedures, prices; after 50 years, life then versus life now is like living on Mars or living on a different planet.