JFK: I just barely remember that. Something on the radio and everyone was shocked and solemn. I was four.
The Apollo capsule fire: Heard about that at home, I think. Remember the shock and horror of it clearly.
1966 Grand Final: Collingwood lose to St Kilda by 1 point.
Harold Holt (Oz PM) drowning. Remember that well. It was summer and I was at the local swimming pool all day. We must have had a transistor radio with us.
1969: Moon landing: How could anyone forget that? We watched it at school on live TV. Black and white, of course, Oz didn't go to colour TV till about 73 or so. We had live TV of some of the later moon events too, but I was bored by then. Seen it all before. (How foolish we are as children!)
1970 Grand Final: Collingwood are 40-odd points up at half time and Ron Barassi invents modern football on the spot. Carlton go on to win.
1972: Ashes cricket
live by satellite from England! Lillie and Thompson at their very best, and we could actually watch it
live from 10,000 miles away!
Whitlam Government election night in '72 - the event that finally catapulted Australia into the 20th Century. We were camping, four friends and I, and catching eels. Slippery damn things!
1975: The Dismissal. November 11th. The Governer General, who is the man appointed by the Queen to make sure that the rules are kept and the constituion followed, broke the rules and dismissed the elected Prime Minister and his government. This was an event completely without precedent (and given the huge public reaction to it, an event that will never, ever be repeated). It wasn't a coup South American republic style, but it was as close as we have ever come to that. I was at work. I had just turned 16. I just said "they can't do that", and figured I had to do something. I grabbed some cardboard boxes and some string, cut them flat, made a sandwich board out of them, and caught a tram into the Melbourne City Square. I figured someone had to do something and that was all that I could think of. I suppose I expected to be marching up and down, all alone in front of the city shoppers and accountants. When I got there, 20 or 30
thousand other people had had exactly the same idea. No-one organised it, no-one planned it, it just happened. After a while, I took my hat off, threw all the money I could spare into it, walked around until it was full. Other people started doing that too. Someone brought some big plastic rubbish bins, we threw the money into them, passed the hats around some more. Eventually, the appropriate people arrived and started organising things. But that massive protest
just happened. I'll never forget it. And neither will any of our future Governers General. Kerr will live on in history's infamy, and no GG will flout the constitution again in a hurry.
1976: Collingwood win the wooden spoon for the first time ever.
1977: Rags to riches: Collingwood and North Melbourne play the only drawn grand final there ever was or ever will be. I was at work, at McDonalds in St Kilda, and the whole damn place just
stopped. You want a burger? You can damn well wait. One of the three most unforgettable sporting events I have ever witnessed - alongside the
almost drawn Ashes Test at the MCG where AB and Thommo batted and batted and batted in a glorious last-wicket partnership all afternoon and into the next day after Kim Hughes and Co had collapsed yet again. I was there for that, at the G. In the end, Botham took Thommo's wicket with the new ball and England won 578 to 575. And the third of my trio of unforgettables, which is likely to surprise a few people here, I should imagine: World Series baseball, around about 1981 or '83. New York vs Boston was it? Red Sox? Best of seven series, and I watched all seven of them live on late-night TV - like 4:00AM or something. Was it New York who had lost the first three and were way,
way down in the 4th and final game? Final inning, two batters out, the last batter had struck out every time so far in the series and he was on two strikes already ... and they came back from there. Won the series.
Awesome! Can anyone give me a link or two to that game? It must be famous. I'd love to refresh my memory, but not knowing even what the sides are called, I don't know where to look it up. (Oh, and after an agony of confusion and indecision, they announced that the '77 drawn grand final would be replayed the next week. Then they changed the rules so that it could never happen again. But we lost the replay, of course.)
1977: Lynyrd Sknyrd plane crash. I think this is the public event that shocked me more than any other. I was just stunned, numb.
1979: We are miles in front at half time, but loose to Carlton again, this time by just 8 points.
1980: A different result. We are
behind at half-time, and way behind by the end. David Cloke kicked 7 goals from the pocket.
1981: See 1979. But make it 4 points.
1982: Falklands War. At home, at work, really,
really hoping that England could pull off a miracle. Very dissapointed in Bob Hawke's token help. They are our friends, they needed all the help they could get, and we did near enough to nothing. Hawke was a Prime Minister so lack-lustre that John Howard probably admires him a great deal.
1990: Collingwood are miles in front by half time, same as usual. But I'd learned by then. Collingwood
never win Grand Finals. This time, I refused to get excited. And then, as we entered time-on in the final quarter (say, about five minutes to go in a 120-odd minute game) I started to question things. "Hey", I said "it's time on in the final quarter and we are 50-odd points up, more than double Essendon's score. We could nearly
win it from here, it's got to be at least a 50-50 chance." Fair dinkum: I didn't honestly start to believe that we could win it until time-on in the last quarter. In consequence, after all those years of hoping and preying and dreaming and wishing, when it finally happened, it was .... nothing special. I wish it had happened when I was 12 instead of when I was 32. It would have meant a lot more when I was 12.
1991: Gulf War. At work with the radio, then at home sitting up all night watching it on TV. That terrible night when the Scuds were falling thick and fast and no-one knew if they had biological warheads yet. Chilling.
The day the Berlin Wall fell? Nope.
The challenger disaster? Nope.
The first shuttle launch? Nope.
The day Ronald Reagan was shot? Nope.
The day John Lennon was shot? Nope.
I had forgotten that one of the Popes was shot.
OJ Who?
Princess What?
Sept. 11th attacks: On Storage Review. Didn't pay too much attention at first, thought it was a mistake or a joke or something. It wasn't the B&G, it was "general": there was no B&G then, and the thread was: "OT: planes fly into World Trade Centre", I think. After a while I thought about turning the TV on, decided that I'd already read Tom Clancy, left it off.
Part of the reason was that I remembered back to when I'd watched the Gulf War and there was a deep buried part of me that
wanted something to happen when the Scuds were falling, even something bad to happen, a part of me that
wanted there to be CBW warheads and wanted Bush and Co to retalliate and wipe thoe bastards off the face of the earth. Mostly I wanted it to be resolved with the minimum death and suffering, of course, but still, I remembered that feeling of watching the war unfold like it was a football event and decided I didn't want to do that again. To this day I have not seen that famous footage of the second plane hitting. I'm quite possibly the only person in the whole damn world that has TV and hasn't seen it yet. I heard on the radio yesterday that two of the three commercial TV networks alone had
twenty one hours of rehash coverage of it last night. I actually flipped the TV on last night, seeing as I have spent the last five days here at home with nothing to do bar read and surf, watched 20 random seconds of a fireman writing a number on his arm in front of some wreckage, thought "I don't need to see this, it won't increase my understanding of the world in any way, it won't help anyone, least of all me" and flipped the channel. Watched two minutes of The Simpsons, said "to hell with it" and flicked it off, went back to my book.