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Sting-Ray Afternoons
ONE OF AMAZON'S BEST BOOKS OF 2017 A wild and bittersweet memoir of a classic '70s childhood
It's a story of the 1970s. Of a road trip in a wood-paneled station wagon, with the kids in the way-back, singing along to the Steve Miller Band. Brothers waking up early on Saturday mornings for five consecutive hours of cartoons and advertising jingles that they'll be humming all day. A father-one of 3M's greatest and last eight-track-salesman fathers-traveling across the country on the brand-new Boeing 747, providing for his family but wanting nothing more than to get home.
It's Steve Rushin's story: of growing up within a '70s landscape populated with Bic pens, Mr. Clean and Scrubbing Bubbles, lightsabers and those oh-so-coveted Schwinn Sting-Ray bikes. Sting-Ray Afternoons paints an utterly fond, psychedelically vibrant, laugh-out-loud-funny portrait of an exuberant decade. With sidesplitting commentary, Rushin creates a vivid picture of a decade of wild youth, cultural rebirth, and the meaning of parental, brotherly, sisterly, whole lotta love.
It's a story of the 1970s. Of a road trip in a wood-paneled station wagon, with the kids in the way-back, singing along to the Steve Miller Band. Brothers waking up early on Saturday mornings for five consecutive hours of cartoons and advertising jingles that they'll be humming all day. A father-one of 3M's greatest and last eight-track-salesman fathers-traveling across the country on the brand-new Boeing 747, providing for his family but wanting nothing more than to get home.
It's Steve Rushin's story: of growing up within a '70s landscape populated with Bic pens, Mr. Clean and Scrubbing Bubbles, lightsabers and those oh-so-coveted Schwinn Sting-Ray bikes. Sting-Ray Afternoons paints an utterly fond, psychedelically vibrant, laugh-out-loud-funny portrait of an exuberant decade. With sidesplitting commentary, Rushin creates a vivid picture of a decade of wild youth, cultural rebirth, and the meaning of parental, brotherly, sisterly, whole lotta love.
336 pages, Hardcover
First published July 3, 2017
450 people are currently reading
3652 people want to read
About the author
Steve Rushin
11 books130 followersAfter graduating from Bloomington Kennedy High School in 1984 and Marquette University in 1988, Rushin joined the staff of Sports Illustrated. Over the next 19 years, he filed stories from Greenland, India, Indonesia, the Arctic Circle and other farflung locales, as well as the usual nearflung locale to which sportswriters are routinely posted.
His first novel, The Pint Man, was published by Doubleday in 2010. The Los Angeles Times called the book “Engaging, clever and often wipe-your-eyes funny.”
Rushin gave the commencement address at Marquette in 2007 and was awarded an honorary Doctor of Letters for “his unique gift of documenting the human condition through his writing.” In 2006, he was named the National Sportswriter of the Year by the National Sportswriters and Sportscasters Association.
A collection of his sports and travel writing—The Caddie Was a Reindeer—was published by Grove Atlantic in 2005 and was named a semifinalist for the Thurber Prize for American Humor. The Denver Post suggested, “If you don’t end up dropping The Caddie Was a Reindeer during fits of uncontrollable merriment, it is likely you need immediate medical attention.”
A four-time finalist for the National Magazine Award, Rushin has had his work anthologized in The Best American Sports Writing, The Best American Travel Writing and The Best American Magazine Writing collections. His essays have appeared in Time magazine and The New York Times. He writes a weekly column for SI.com and is a What TK to Golf Digest.
His first book, Road Swing, published in 1998, was named one of the “Best Books of the Year” by Publishers Weekly and one of the “Top 100 Sports Books of All Time” by Sports Illustrated.
Rushin’s next book, a work of nonfiction called The Baseball Grenade, will be published by Little, Brown in 2013.
He and his wife, Rebecca Lobo, have four children and live in Connecticut.
His first novel, The Pint Man, was published by Doubleday in 2010. The Los Angeles Times called the book “Engaging, clever and often wipe-your-eyes funny.”
Rushin gave the commencement address at Marquette in 2007 and was awarded an honorary Doctor of Letters for “his unique gift of documenting the human condition through his writing.” In 2006, he was named the National Sportswriter of the Year by the National Sportswriters and Sportscasters Association.
A collection of his sports and travel writing—The Caddie Was a Reindeer—was published by Grove Atlantic in 2005 and was named a semifinalist for the Thurber Prize for American Humor. The Denver Post suggested, “If you don’t end up dropping The Caddie Was a Reindeer during fits of uncontrollable merriment, it is likely you need immediate medical attention.”
A four-time finalist for the National Magazine Award, Rushin has had his work anthologized in The Best American Sports Writing, The Best American Travel Writing and The Best American Magazine Writing collections. His essays have appeared in Time magazine and The New York Times. He writes a weekly column for SI.com and is a What TK to Golf Digest.
His first book, Road Swing, published in 1998, was named one of the “Best Books of the Year” by Publishers Weekly and one of the “Top 100 Sports Books of All Time” by Sports Illustrated.
Rushin’s next book, a work of nonfiction called The Baseball Grenade, will be published by Little, Brown in 2013.
He and his wife, Rebecca Lobo, have four children and live in Connecticut.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 490 reviews
July 28, 2018
”A long long time ago
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn’t take one more step
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.”
-- American Pie, Don McLean, Songwriters: Don McLean
”I’m a product of the 1970s. Like other products of that age – the Boeing 747 and the Schwinn Sting-Ray bicycle – I was conceived in the 1960s but fully flowered in the decade that followed, when I saw my first Sting-Ray through a heat shimmer on West 96th Street in Bloomington, Minnesota.”
As a young boy, he was the family memory keeper, unofficially, writing notes or stories or thoughts he had during those crucial years of childhood that form us. In a family that eventually would include 5 children, or as his father was fond of saying “One redhead, and four shitheads.” In other words, one daughter and four boys. He was smack dab in the middle.
I loved this, even though it’s clearly his Memory Lane, and not mine, there is much that made me laugh, and other parts reminded me of things I'd almost forgotten and remembered fondly, others not as fondly, but just as clearly. With every step of progress comes another one or two toward nostalgia.
There are parts of this memoir that are told in a style that reminds me, somewhat of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” There are parts where he mentions the things he associates with his childhood, his memories, come in rapid fire succession (“Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray, South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio”)
Paragraphs might include references to five or more common products from the 1970s, but always with humour, and then there are many things people will be too young to know or to have experienced.
”When Mom snapped off the TV, the image would shrink toward the center, as if also disappearing down a drain. I would pass my hand across the warm surface of the screen. It would crackle with an electromagnetic force field, literally drawing me to it, the fine hairs on my arm bending toward its bottle-green glass.”
Sports plays a notable part of this memoir, as well, and reading about his enthusiasm as a very young man, it’s easy to understand why Rushin ended up writing for Sports Illustrated. Still, his childhood memories are of another era in the past, and if you lived through these eras, this memoir will likely stir up some wonderful memories for you, as well. If not, perhaps it will make you wish some of them were still a part of life these days.
There is also a bit that was reminiscent of Bill Bryson in his writing as he covers the history of those years, the advent of the Boeing 747 (which, in my house, was a very big deal), the changes in the country, along with the changes in the sizes of families, the advent of new industries and the dying off of old ones. Primarily, though, this is his story, the coming-of-age of a young man in this era, the changes he observed as they occurred, some welcomed, some not. A somewhat nostalgic look at the past.
In a bit of kismet, a week ago I’d been looking to see what books I had that were light enough to balance out what I’d been reading. I’d run across this book, which I knew my oldest son had read and enjoyed, and decided to read this one next. That night before dinner, he said he’d been thinking about this book and thought I might enjoy it, so it was a nice confirmation for me, the book gods looking down on me.
I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn’t take one more step
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.”
-- American Pie, Don McLean, Songwriters: Don McLean
”I’m a product of the 1970s. Like other products of that age – the Boeing 747 and the Schwinn Sting-Ray bicycle – I was conceived in the 1960s but fully flowered in the decade that followed, when I saw my first Sting-Ray through a heat shimmer on West 96th Street in Bloomington, Minnesota.”
As a young boy, he was the family memory keeper, unofficially, writing notes or stories or thoughts he had during those crucial years of childhood that form us. In a family that eventually would include 5 children, or as his father was fond of saying “One redhead, and four shitheads.” In other words, one daughter and four boys. He was smack dab in the middle.
I loved this, even though it’s clearly his Memory Lane, and not mine, there is much that made me laugh, and other parts reminded me of things I'd almost forgotten and remembered fondly, others not as fondly, but just as clearly. With every step of progress comes another one or two toward nostalgia.
There are parts of this memoir that are told in a style that reminds me, somewhat of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” There are parts where he mentions the things he associates with his childhood, his memories, come in rapid fire succession (“Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray, South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio”)
Paragraphs might include references to five or more common products from the 1970s, but always with humour, and then there are many things people will be too young to know or to have experienced.
”When Mom snapped off the TV, the image would shrink toward the center, as if also disappearing down a drain. I would pass my hand across the warm surface of the screen. It would crackle with an electromagnetic force field, literally drawing me to it, the fine hairs on my arm bending toward its bottle-green glass.”
Sports plays a notable part of this memoir, as well, and reading about his enthusiasm as a very young man, it’s easy to understand why Rushin ended up writing for Sports Illustrated. Still, his childhood memories are of another era in the past, and if you lived through these eras, this memoir will likely stir up some wonderful memories for you, as well. If not, perhaps it will make you wish some of them were still a part of life these days.
There is also a bit that was reminiscent of Bill Bryson in his writing as he covers the history of those years, the advent of the Boeing 747 (which, in my house, was a very big deal), the changes in the country, along with the changes in the sizes of families, the advent of new industries and the dying off of old ones. Primarily, though, this is his story, the coming-of-age of a young man in this era, the changes he observed as they occurred, some welcomed, some not. A somewhat nostalgic look at the past.
In a bit of kismet, a week ago I’d been looking to see what books I had that were light enough to balance out what I’d been reading. I’d run across this book, which I knew my oldest son had read and enjoyed, and decided to read this one next. That night before dinner, he said he’d been thinking about this book and thought I might enjoy it, so it was a nice confirmation for me, the book gods looking down on me.
July 27, 2017
How could so many of us have the same childhood? Fun, fun book.
May 1, 2019
The author looks back fondly upon his 1970s childhood in the Midwest. His Catholic family included five boys and one girl.
A treasure trove of 1970s culture, some of which I had forgotten, this book is sure to bring back your own childhood memories.
From toys, candy, commercial jingles, to news events, cars, music, TV shows, movies, church, sports, family vacations, it’s all there. Although the references to numerous 70s commercial products can get tedious, fast forward to Steve’s family experiences, which is where the book really shines.
As the designated reader in the family, and a lover of the great “Indoors,” Steve’s love of words and wordplay began early. Wordplay was something his father also enjoyed, to comic effect.
Life was not all fun and games, as Steve honestly documents his own personal fears and struggles, and the high and low points of his growing up years.
Well written and often laugh out loud funny, this is great fun to listen to on audiobook. A tribute to the 1970’s, this is an entertaining and nostalgic listen!
A treasure trove of 1970s culture, some of which I had forgotten, this book is sure to bring back your own childhood memories.
From toys, candy, commercial jingles, to news events, cars, music, TV shows, movies, church, sports, family vacations, it’s all there. Although the references to numerous 70s commercial products can get tedious, fast forward to Steve’s family experiences, which is where the book really shines.
As the designated reader in the family, and a lover of the great “Indoors,” Steve’s love of words and wordplay began early. Wordplay was something his father also enjoyed, to comic effect.
Life was not all fun and games, as Steve honestly documents his own personal fears and struggles, and the high and low points of his growing up years.
Well written and often laugh out loud funny, this is great fun to listen to on audiobook. A tribute to the 1970’s, this is an entertaining and nostalgic listen!
May 24, 2017
This book was great. Every single chapter reminded me of growing up with my three brothers. I loved all of the references to the items of the 60's, 70's and even the 80's. From the "8-track" to the "boom-box". This is a must read for anyone that grew up in that era. I am sending the book on to someone else that loves that era, and will probably love reading this book. Good Job Mr. Rushin!
January 4, 2018
Based on the last third of the book I'd like to rate this book higher but based on the first two-thirds I cannot.
The bulk of the book is a mile wide and an inch deep. The author seemed more determined to check off a list of every notable product and experience of the 70s (including slogans, jingles and occasional brief histories) than he was to tell his own story. (There are also the multitudinous quotes from parents that most will recall.) His stories in the early and middle sections were overly general and more of a conveyance for the 70s references. The references were amusing but ultimately not what I was seeking in a memoir.
Also, stylistically Rushin put too much emphasis on clever wordplay. It reminded me of what I hated most about the TV series M*A*S*H when David Ogden Stiers joined the cast. The show suddenly went from a comedy that was funny to a comedy that was all about puns and twists on words (that just weren't funny). If you liked that version of M*A*S*H this book won't disappoint.
I wasn't sure I'd stay with the book but was glad I did. The last third felt gimmick-free and read more like a genuine memoir. It had depth and solid humor and held my interest.
It's a quick read and unless you feel as strongly about clever wordplay as I do I'd recommend it to most members of the 70s generation.
The bulk of the book is a mile wide and an inch deep. The author seemed more determined to check off a list of every notable product and experience of the 70s (including slogans, jingles and occasional brief histories) than he was to tell his own story. (There are also the multitudinous quotes from parents that most will recall.) His stories in the early and middle sections were overly general and more of a conveyance for the 70s references. The references were amusing but ultimately not what I was seeking in a memoir.
Also, stylistically Rushin put too much emphasis on clever wordplay. It reminded me of what I hated most about the TV series M*A*S*H when David Ogden Stiers joined the cast. The show suddenly went from a comedy that was funny to a comedy that was all about puns and twists on words (that just weren't funny). If you liked that version of M*A*S*H this book won't disappoint.
I wasn't sure I'd stay with the book but was glad I did. The last third felt gimmick-free and read more like a genuine memoir. It had depth and solid humor and held my interest.
It's a quick read and unless you feel as strongly about clever wordplay as I do I'd recommend it to most members of the 70s generation.
July 29, 2017
A perfect read for the summer, but also just a very entertaining Generation-X memoir. Like the Nine Mile Creek referenced by the author, the ambient 70's nostalgia flows steadily throughout his various anecdotes. Nicely detailed, occasionally bittersweet, and often funny - highly recommended if you grew up in a suburban nuclear family during or close to the same era. Thanks for the memories, Mr. Rushin.
February 28, 2018
More a chronological list of memories and brand names than an actual memoir - I felt like he was trying to ping every 1970s kid's memory bank with jingles and products rather than tell a compelling story. Which is too bad, because it seemed like there could be a compelling story underneath all the wordplay and the detailed histories of Bic pens and Boeing planes. (I particularly wanted to know more about his dad - what an interesting character.) Overall this felt pretty self-indulgent.
July 11, 2017
What a fantastic ride down memory lane! This book spoke to me on many different levels, as I am seven years older than the author. I laughed out loud and at times cried. This book brought back my youth for a couple of days. When a book makes you feel things and does a great job of bringing back your own good times as a kid, it is officially a five star book. Many thanks to Steve Rushin for this gift.
November 29, 2017
What a beautiful book you wrote, Steve Rushin. A few years younger, thousands of kilometers away, a childhood in a different country in fact, and I can still relate. My hat's off to you.
June 8, 2020
I enjoyed this memoir so much. I knew it was a memoir of growing up in the 1970s, but I didn't realize all the other parallels there would be between my childhood and the author's - moving to Minnesota from Chicago, growing up in Minnesota, going to Catholic school, brothers, etc... I enjoyed this walk down memory lane so much. The reason I gave it 4.5 stars instead of 5 was that in places it was sort of like talking to my husband with too much mechanical detail given to 747s, bikes, radios, TVs, etc... (my husband and I laughed about this when I told him).
October 7, 2020
What a fun book!! The writing just sparkled- it’s a reminiscent childhood memoir with no sad stuff so a writer that can pull that off is one hell of a writer. And he is. I’m a child of the 70s, as is the author, so all the rhymes and tv shows etc were familiar, but you don’t have to be our age to love this book. Very funny and again, perfectly written.
July 31, 2023
This book had me at the cover. I'm the same age as the author and had a bright blue sting-ray with glitter in the seat. This book had so many instances I could relate to I found myself nodding my head in complete understanding throughout the book. I have nothing but total respect and admiration for the research I know he had to do to get the details right when referencing specific events and products from the '70s.
This was my first book by Steve Rushin and now I'm a big fan of his writing style and humor. As soon as I finished this book I ordered his other memoir, Nights in White Castle. I can't wait to read it.
This was my first book by Steve Rushin and now I'm a big fan of his writing style and humor. As soon as I finished this book I ordered his other memoir, Nights in White Castle. I can't wait to read it.
April 11, 2018
Rushin's nostalgic look back at the 70s was kind of delightful. I loved the tour of my own adolescence, and I liked getting a view into Rushin's family. His eldest brother is portrayed as a horrible person, I wonder how accurate that is in real life.
I enjoyed this mightily, but in the end it was a little too sports-focused for me.
I enjoyed this mightily, but in the end it was a little too sports-focused for me.
May 3, 2020
I’m stopping. 100 pages in and literally nothing has happened. Laundry list of 70s events, products, and fads, interspersed with summaries of the Wikipedia pages for those events, products, and fads.
February 11, 2019
A fun flashback to my childhood. So many things that I had completely forgotten about!
February 16, 2022
If I had a shelf genre for "nostalgia" this book would be a prime candidate. Though I am a few years older than the author, I am the same age as his brother Tom and still experienced most of the American suburbia of the 1970s that he writes about. "Sting-Ray Afternoons" is a time machine back to my youth with some obvious differences. My parents did not drink, my siblings were not sports obssessed and I grew up in suburban Long Island, NY not Minnesota. Otherwise the shared memories are striking.
Since I like to compare books to movies and TV, this one is like "The Spirit of '76" as narrated by Ralphie from "A Christmas Story" who grew up to be Denis Leary. I think that about covers it. It is a lot of fun, especially if you are the target audience like I am.
Since I like to compare books to movies and TV, this one is like "The Spirit of '76" as narrated by Ralphie from "A Christmas Story" who grew up to be Denis Leary. I think that about covers it. It is a lot of fun, especially if you are the target audience like I am.
August 28, 2023
3.5 rounded up
October 3, 2017
A very nostalgic trip through the 1960s, 70s, and even a bit of the 50s and 80s. Mr Rushin tosses out many product names, songs, toys, and a lot of behaviors from his childhood growing up in Minnesota. (So thorough are the names, I'm sure he looked up old catalogues and magazines.) If your life overlaps with any of these decades, you will enjoy his observations on how good, bad or silly all of this was, and its effect on his upbringing. And probably yours.
June 3, 2018
When I got this book, I thought, "Why does the world need a memoir of childhood by a middle-aged white guy who grew up in Minnesota?" Of course, being a middle-aged white guy who grew up in Minnesota, I completely identified with it. Also, it's one of the best-written memoirs I've ever read. I laughed more than at any book I've read since The Last Catholic in America.
March 14, 2022
This book had a lot going for it in my mind. First, the subject of the title, the Sting Ray bike, was something that I remember having as a kid. Mine was red, with an off-white banana seat and a three gear shifter stick bolted to the crossbar, in a location notorious for causing damage to boys when they had to stop quickly or ran into something. It was the coolest bike in the neighborhood. I figured this book would bring back these memories by the author riffing on his own memories. The author is about my age, so I expected the experiences to be similar. And, strangely enough, the author’s father worked for the same company my father worked for. The author’s Dad sold the tapes that my Dad helped manufacture. So another similarity. And lastly, I noticed in a quick word search of the book before I read it that the author lived in Lisle, Illinois early on, and that’s where I live now. These were why I chose to read this book, and my expectations were to get a large dose of nostalgia like watching The Wonder Years.
Here the book was hit or miss. The author method here was to riff a little on his life experiences as a youngster in the 60s and 70s, then take some aspect and drill down into an encyclopedic review of said topic I found some of these long asides interesting, but some not. For instance, the author talks of Christmas catalogs and their impact on kids toy requests for Christmas. I found the catalog info interesting, but the others were less so. And surprisingly there wasn’t as much about bikes as I would have expected given the title and the true need for a book about those classic and dangerous bikes.
I also ran across one of my pet peeves while listening to this audiobook. When a publisher goes to the effort and expense of creating an audiobook, I always hope that they do their due diligence and figure out how to correctly pronounce the names in the book. The audiobook I finished just prior to this had mentioned the neighboring Chicago suburb of Naperville and had somehow mispronounced that city name. But Lisle can be more difficult. It should be pronounced like Lyle Wagonner pronounced his name, with a long I, rhyming with “while”. Sometimes I get cold calls that pronounce it with a short I and with the s, rhyming with “whistle”. That’s wrong, but somewhat common and sounds humorous, and you can see the earnestness behind the person taking their best shot. In the audio for this book, I believe it was pronounced Lale, rhyming with “pail”. That lack of respect for the author’s home town lowered my enjoyment.
Overall I enjoyed the author's personal nostalgia anecdotes, but found the more historical discussions hit or miss. Any deeper meaning, or story, didn't stick. 2.5 stars
Here the book was hit or miss. The author method here was to riff a little on his life experiences as a youngster in the 60s and 70s, then take some aspect and drill down into an encyclopedic review of said topic I found some of these long asides interesting, but some not. For instance, the author talks of Christmas catalogs and their impact on kids toy requests for Christmas. I found the catalog info interesting, but the others were less so. And surprisingly there wasn’t as much about bikes as I would have expected given the title and the true need for a book about those classic and dangerous bikes.
I also ran across one of my pet peeves while listening to this audiobook. When a publisher goes to the effort and expense of creating an audiobook, I always hope that they do their due diligence and figure out how to correctly pronounce the names in the book. The audiobook I finished just prior to this had mentioned the neighboring Chicago suburb of Naperville and had somehow mispronounced that city name. But Lisle can be more difficult. It should be pronounced like Lyle Wagonner pronounced his name, with a long I, rhyming with “while”. Sometimes I get cold calls that pronounce it with a short I and with the s, rhyming with “whistle”. That’s wrong, but somewhat common and sounds humorous, and you can see the earnestness behind the person taking their best shot. In the audio for this book, I believe it was pronounced Lale, rhyming with “pail”. That lack of respect for the author’s home town lowered my enjoyment.
Overall I enjoyed the author's personal nostalgia anecdotes, but found the more historical discussions hit or miss. Any deeper meaning, or story, didn't stick. 2.5 stars
June 13, 2020
Sportswriter Steve Rushin's autobiography of growing up in the Midwest in the 1970s. Readers in their 50s can relate to many of his childhood memories. Lots of humor and plenty of 1970s nostalgia.
October 10, 2021
A fun and nostalgic read. I love Steve's clever use of original similes and metaphors.
February 27, 2019
If you grew up in the 60-70's in North America this book will bring back a flood of memories. Although set in Bloomington, Minn, Steve Rushin, like all of us who had a television and a Sears catalogue was living in the era of name-brands. TV commercials made having "this" car, "that" pair of running shoes, "those" cookies important. And if your were not aware of the newest hottest aspirational brand you quickly found out what you were missing from your friends!
This is a story of a middle class suburban family and it brings back so many memories - although my dream bike was a purple Fast-Back Princess, not a Sting-Ray- which I got as compensation for not being allowed to go see David Cassidy in concert. The book does sometimes become a Pinterest Board of products from that era, but if it was not your Board/Era it will spark memories of your own childhood. This is a happy family memoir - a nice palate cleanser from some of the more disturbing ones I have read. Rushin writes for Sports Illustrated, the often heartwarming, longer articles at the back of the magazine, and he knows how to tell a story, to set the scene, describe the setting, mood, etc. It was fun to spend some time back in the 70's with a rambunctious family and to find out how they are all doing now!
This is a story of a middle class suburban family and it brings back so many memories - although my dream bike was a purple Fast-Back Princess, not a Sting-Ray- which I got as compensation for not being allowed to go see David Cassidy in concert. The book does sometimes become a Pinterest Board of products from that era, but if it was not your Board/Era it will spark memories of your own childhood. This is a happy family memoir - a nice palate cleanser from some of the more disturbing ones I have read. Rushin writes for Sports Illustrated, the often heartwarming, longer articles at the back of the magazine, and he knows how to tell a story, to set the scene, describe the setting, mood, etc. It was fun to spend some time back in the 70's with a rambunctious family and to find out how they are all doing now!
September 20, 2017
In the tradition of Bill Bryson's The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid and Jean Shepherd's In God We Trust, Sports Illustrated journalist Steve Rushin takes on the 1970's. This is memoir writing at its finest, a collision of pop culture, history, and family life from Rushin's formative years in Bloomington, Minnesota.
As I am a few years younger than the author some of the references were either before my time or before I was cognizant of the world around me. However, that which I do remember brought back fond recollections. I had completely forgotten, for instance, about Dixie Riddle Cups. Our neighbors, the Kurins, kept a supply in the bathroom. Conflicting emotions erupted every time I used their for some odd reason, carpeted, watering closet. On the one hand, the cups offered free reading material and therefore evoked a longing in me that my family would also endeavor to purchase a stack. At the same time, I was mildly horrified at the waste. Imagine, throwing away a cup every time one used the facilities! The commercial jingles, the sugar spiked cereals, the popular toys and games, all of this nostalgia left me longing for a time when telephone cords were long and summer days even longer.
An additional benefit of this memoir is the detailed history written about some of these products as well as some of the decade's most significant historical events. A native of the northwest, I enjoyed learning about another part of the country, the foreign land of Minnesota, home to the Vikings and the Twins.
Along with the cultural reminiscing, the author takes us on a journey of his youth. This is American boyhood as it is depicted in television shows and movies. Before the dawn of the digital age when kids spent their days outside, riding their bikes, alternatively getting picked on and beating up brothers, pulling pranks on unsuspecting neighbors, and earning their scars and bruises. It is both light-hearted and touching, the familial bond is evident throughout.
Tootsie Roll Blow Pops, Nerf balls, the epic 747, fear-evoking Jaws on the big screen, its all there. Moral of the story, even a decade with a surplus of fashion faux-pas (bell bottoms, knee high tube socks, the pointed collar) has its merits. Sting-Ray Afternoons brings them to light.
As I am a few years younger than the author some of the references were either before my time or before I was cognizant of the world around me. However, that which I do remember brought back fond recollections. I had completely forgotten, for instance, about Dixie Riddle Cups. Our neighbors, the Kurins, kept a supply in the bathroom. Conflicting emotions erupted every time I used their for some odd reason, carpeted, watering closet. On the one hand, the cups offered free reading material and therefore evoked a longing in me that my family would also endeavor to purchase a stack. At the same time, I was mildly horrified at the waste. Imagine, throwing away a cup every time one used the facilities! The commercial jingles, the sugar spiked cereals, the popular toys and games, all of this nostalgia left me longing for a time when telephone cords were long and summer days even longer.
An additional benefit of this memoir is the detailed history written about some of these products as well as some of the decade's most significant historical events. A native of the northwest, I enjoyed learning about another part of the country, the foreign land of Minnesota, home to the Vikings and the Twins.
Along with the cultural reminiscing, the author takes us on a journey of his youth. This is American boyhood as it is depicted in television shows and movies. Before the dawn of the digital age when kids spent their days outside, riding their bikes, alternatively getting picked on and beating up brothers, pulling pranks on unsuspecting neighbors, and earning their scars and bruises. It is both light-hearted and touching, the familial bond is evident throughout.
Tootsie Roll Blow Pops, Nerf balls, the epic 747, fear-evoking Jaws on the big screen, its all there. Moral of the story, even a decade with a surplus of fashion faux-pas (bell bottoms, knee high tube socks, the pointed collar) has its merits. Sting-Ray Afternoons brings them to light.
September 8, 2017
This is a supremely enjoyable read for anyone who came of age in the 70s, or grew up in the chaos of a big family, or went to Catholic school, or had a bike and road it around town, or rooted for a losing sports team, or road in a station wagon on a family vacation or loved and feared your parents. If you have done any or all of these things you will laugh out loud at Steve Rushin's memoir many times and you may choke up once or twice as well. Rushin is a crisp clear writer with an eye for the detail that sets the scene. His comic timing is almost always spot on and his good humor is evident throughout the book. He manages to be honest without being indulgent and humorous without being crass or mean. He reminds us of a time of small bedrooms, big handlebars, big televisions, authoritative teachers, unsupervised Saturdays and hijinks that were fun until some poked an eye out.
As a middle aged man who grew up in suburbia, I felt he was not only writing for me but about me. However I think the appeal of this warm funny memoir will extend beyond those in mid-life.
As a middle aged man who grew up in suburbia, I felt he was not only writing for me but about me. However I think the appeal of this warm funny memoir will extend beyond those in mid-life.
August 22, 2018
I loved this book. So many memories from my past. So many funny and enlightening moments. 4 boys, I girl. I get it. I had 3 brothers, no sisters and I was amazed at how much the boys reminded me of my own brothers. The expressive language was wonderful. It was simply a trip back if you were around in the 70’s. Remember that Sears catalogue and the Wish book... the Bible of Christmas, that’s in there. Take a trip down memory lane. Perfect for these stressful times. It reminds me that life really is good.
October 4, 2017
I thoroughly enjoyed this book! I took it with me on vacation, which was great. (It's the sort of book you CAN put down and come back to later, which is what I needed.) Although I was a girl in the deep South, born 10 years before the author, there was SO much that related so well to my childhood. The only problem I had was that I kept interrupting my husband in HIS book, to read excerpts of mine! I would certainly recommend it!
October 6, 2021
With a light touch, a long memory, a loving fondness and a Queen-laser-beam eye for the telling detail, STING RAY AFTERNOONS is a memoir that in many ways could be mine. Steve Rushin was born in 1967, and I was born in 1965; we both grew up slightly-upper-middle-class in WASPY suburbs of big cities (Bloomington, Minnesota vs. Bainbridge Island, Washington). We were both sports-crazed kids with active school and neighborhood kid communities.
Those details are important because STING-RAY AFTERNOONS is much more a memoir of a time than of a person, or a family, or a place, though those all have their place in this story. This is meant to be a semi-universal rendering of growing up during the 1970s as a Wonder Bread white kid in Lik-M-Aid America. And so this book is for anybody who lived through and can relate to it, wherever or however they grew up. And to the forensic details of the time (I'd guess those of us in our mid-fifties now who remember growing up in the 1970s can't remember what we had for breakfast yesterday but can remember the names of every kid on our street who showed up for Nerf football games.) To witL
"A fourth-grader with a red-tipped Lucky Spike candy cigarette dangling from his lip and a die-cast metal cap gun tucked into the waistband of his Toughskins, riding through South Brook on a Sting-Ray the color of grape soda, was an adolescent American badass circa 1974—especially if he had a temporary tattoo from a Cracker Jack box adhered to one or both of his pipe-cleaner biceps."
And how white were we?
"Underwear, not incidentally, was white, the porcelain white of toilets and tubs, of T-shirts washed in Tide or teeth brushed with Topol (“The smoker’s tooth polish”). The colors that would come to be associated with the 1970s—harvest-gold; avocado-green; the brown-and-orange scheme favored by Burger King and the San Diego Padres—had nothing on white: white tennis shoes, white tube socks, our tighty-whities scored with skid marks, awaiting the cleansing touch of Fab or Bold or Cheer. My mother aspired to the dazzling white bedsheets of detergent commercials, but there were also the white loafers and belt of the esteemed architect Mike Brady, the white jumpsuit of Evel Knievel, the white spikes of the Swingin’ Oakland A’s, the white-smocked Mr. Whipple (squeezing the Charmin), the white cleats that spawned the nickname of Billy “White Shoes” Johnson—kick-return specialist of the Houston Oilers and early adopter of the end-zone celebration dance. The ’70s era was the gleaming white of storm-trooper armor, of Travolta’s suit in Saturday Night Fever."
That is some Hi-C-concentrate-strength reminiscence.
I especially liked being reminded of what I'd forgotten:
"The Sears Christmas Wish Book, thick as a telephone directory, was more than a catalogue of consumer goods. It was a glossy catalogue of children’s dreams, a hard-copy rendering of an eight-year-old’s id."
And I even liked being reminded of what I never wanted to be reminded of, i.e., being tormented by bigger and older siblings:
"“Want some ABC gum?” America’s third-graders are fond of asking each other, my brother Jim included. When one of them replies in the affirmative, their eight-year-old interlocutor will remove a wodge of gum from his mouth and say, “Here—it’s Already Been Chewed.” One will also learn to decline the offer of a Hertz Donut, which consists of a punch to the biceps and a rhetorical question: “Hurts, don’t it?” Nor should we ever say yes when one’s big brother approaches with a deck of cards and says, “Wanna play 52 Pickup?” And one should never, ever accept the following invitation: “Open your mouth and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise.”
As is true of all bigger, older sibs of the time:
"Jim is about to become a ’70s alpha boy: dibs caller of car seats, hogger of second helpings, chooser of channels, permanent Monopoly banker, all-time quarterback of backyard football, giver of charley horses on long car rides, and slugger of Slug Bugs with no punch-backs."
I could go on and on, as I'm doing all this fabulous quoting and I haven't even reached the 20% mark of the book. Which in a way is its own review: I have long believed that the more quotable a book is, the more irresistible and awesome it is, like the Supertramp album I played over and over on my Sears belt-driven turntable in eighth grade.
Thanks, Steve Rushin, for sending my Pop Rocks-addled childhood rushin' back into my veins.
Those details are important because STING-RAY AFTERNOONS is much more a memoir of a time than of a person, or a family, or a place, though those all have their place in this story. This is meant to be a semi-universal rendering of growing up during the 1970s as a Wonder Bread white kid in Lik-M-Aid America. And so this book is for anybody who lived through and can relate to it, wherever or however they grew up. And to the forensic details of the time (I'd guess those of us in our mid-fifties now who remember growing up in the 1970s can't remember what we had for breakfast yesterday but can remember the names of every kid on our street who showed up for Nerf football games.) To witL
"A fourth-grader with a red-tipped Lucky Spike candy cigarette dangling from his lip and a die-cast metal cap gun tucked into the waistband of his Toughskins, riding through South Brook on a Sting-Ray the color of grape soda, was an adolescent American badass circa 1974—especially if he had a temporary tattoo from a Cracker Jack box adhered to one or both of his pipe-cleaner biceps."
And how white were we?
"Underwear, not incidentally, was white, the porcelain white of toilets and tubs, of T-shirts washed in Tide or teeth brushed with Topol (“The smoker’s tooth polish”). The colors that would come to be associated with the 1970s—harvest-gold; avocado-green; the brown-and-orange scheme favored by Burger King and the San Diego Padres—had nothing on white: white tennis shoes, white tube socks, our tighty-whities scored with skid marks, awaiting the cleansing touch of Fab or Bold or Cheer. My mother aspired to the dazzling white bedsheets of detergent commercials, but there were also the white loafers and belt of the esteemed architect Mike Brady, the white jumpsuit of Evel Knievel, the white spikes of the Swingin’ Oakland A’s, the white-smocked Mr. Whipple (squeezing the Charmin), the white cleats that spawned the nickname of Billy “White Shoes” Johnson—kick-return specialist of the Houston Oilers and early adopter of the end-zone celebration dance. The ’70s era was the gleaming white of storm-trooper armor, of Travolta’s suit in Saturday Night Fever."
That is some Hi-C-concentrate-strength reminiscence.
I especially liked being reminded of what I'd forgotten:
"The Sears Christmas Wish Book, thick as a telephone directory, was more than a catalogue of consumer goods. It was a glossy catalogue of children’s dreams, a hard-copy rendering of an eight-year-old’s id."
And I even liked being reminded of what I never wanted to be reminded of, i.e., being tormented by bigger and older siblings:
"“Want some ABC gum?” America’s third-graders are fond of asking each other, my brother Jim included. When one of them replies in the affirmative, their eight-year-old interlocutor will remove a wodge of gum from his mouth and say, “Here—it’s Already Been Chewed.” One will also learn to decline the offer of a Hertz Donut, which consists of a punch to the biceps and a rhetorical question: “Hurts, don’t it?” Nor should we ever say yes when one’s big brother approaches with a deck of cards and says, “Wanna play 52 Pickup?” And one should never, ever accept the following invitation: “Open your mouth and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise.”
As is true of all bigger, older sibs of the time:
"Jim is about to become a ’70s alpha boy: dibs caller of car seats, hogger of second helpings, chooser of channels, permanent Monopoly banker, all-time quarterback of backyard football, giver of charley horses on long car rides, and slugger of Slug Bugs with no punch-backs."
I could go on and on, as I'm doing all this fabulous quoting and I haven't even reached the 20% mark of the book. Which in a way is its own review: I have long believed that the more quotable a book is, the more irresistible and awesome it is, like the Supertramp album I played over and over on my Sears belt-driven turntable in eighth grade.
Thanks, Steve Rushin, for sending my Pop Rocks-addled childhood rushin' back into my veins.
November 5, 2017
Who knew a 2½-page history of the BiC pen could be so good?
Ostensibly Sting-Ray Afternoons is a memoir by Steve Rushin, who made his fame writing for Sports Illustrated. But a Rushin memoir is about the time he grew up -- the 1970s and all the things people growing up in the 1970s grow up with. We learn about 3M and their competitor Memorex as Rushin's dad was a 3M salesman. The coveted Schwinn Sting-Ray bicycle gives the book it's title. The Sears catalog provides a laundry list of products to lust for, while Playboy gives the growing boy and his brothers ladies to lust over.
And then there's the BiC pen. Rushin writes about how he and his grade-school classmates turned the pen into a spitball gun, then gives us a mini history of the pen. As anyone who has used one of the simple ballpoint pens knows, the word BiC is engraved onto the end of the pen. For young boys using the pens as spitball guns, Rushin tells us "the name of the pen's inventor -- Marcel Bich -- was literally on the tips of all our tongues."
You'll find turns of phrases like that throughout Rushin's memoir. He makes it look easy, like LeBron James flipping a no-look crosscourt pass, or Corey Kluber striking out every other hitter (playoffs not included). He tells stories with ease, though much like the aforementioned athletes a great amount of work goes into making it look so easy.
Anyone who came of age around the same time as Rushin will enjoy this book. Anyone who likes simple tales of family, much like A Christmas Story or Wally Lamb's Wishin' and Hopin', won't be able to put this one down. Nostalgic without being too sentimental, Sting-Ray Afternoons will deliver a few good afternoons of reading for just about anyone.
Ostensibly Sting-Ray Afternoons is a memoir by Steve Rushin, who made his fame writing for Sports Illustrated. But a Rushin memoir is about the time he grew up -- the 1970s and all the things people growing up in the 1970s grow up with. We learn about 3M and their competitor Memorex as Rushin's dad was a 3M salesman. The coveted Schwinn Sting-Ray bicycle gives the book it's title. The Sears catalog provides a laundry list of products to lust for, while Playboy gives the growing boy and his brothers ladies to lust over.
And then there's the BiC pen. Rushin writes about how he and his grade-school classmates turned the pen into a spitball gun, then gives us a mini history of the pen. As anyone who has used one of the simple ballpoint pens knows, the word BiC is engraved onto the end of the pen. For young boys using the pens as spitball guns, Rushin tells us "the name of the pen's inventor -- Marcel Bich -- was literally on the tips of all our tongues."
You'll find turns of phrases like that throughout Rushin's memoir. He makes it look easy, like LeBron James flipping a no-look crosscourt pass, or Corey Kluber striking out every other hitter (playoffs not included). He tells stories with ease, though much like the aforementioned athletes a great amount of work goes into making it look so easy.
Anyone who came of age around the same time as Rushin will enjoy this book. Anyone who likes simple tales of family, much like A Christmas Story or Wally Lamb's Wishin' and Hopin', won't be able to put this one down. Nostalgic without being too sentimental, Sting-Ray Afternoons will deliver a few good afternoons of reading for just about anyone.
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