What really interests me, thinking about Ronald Reagan, is how closely his presidency bookended a particular time of my life. In January 1981 I was a frustrated and angry young farmboy about to embark upon the final year of secondary school. By the end of that year I had enrolled at University, all set to embark upon a time of independence, shared housing, bands, People for Nuclear Disarmament rallies, op shop clothing, bad cooking, and making friends for life. In other words, The Years When I Grew Up.
During the second part of the Reagan years I was working in Leongatha. There I fell in with the finest bunch of people you could ever wish to meet. Together we tormented the local community FM radio station, put together a fanzine, hung out with the Cannanes, and reinvigorated our letterboxes, receiving handmade cassettes from Randall Lee, Bruce Russell, Wayne Davidson and the Growling Porcupine collective, and parcels from K Records. Mention the words “Simon’s Lane” and watch me go all misty-eyed.
Reagan left office in January 1989. George H W Bush became president. A girl called Adrienne appeared on the scene. The various members of the Leongatha gang gradually succumbed to the inexorable pull of Melbourne. My father fell sick and died. The iron curtain crumbled. Things would never be the same.
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