My baby takes the morning train

Right now I’m knee-deep in the novel “American Wife” by Curtis Sittenfeld. The book is infamous mostly due to the fact that it’s a fictionalized interpretation of Laura Bush’s life. I was wary to read it because of that fact, but about 3 pages into the thing I lost track of the conceit. Instead it’s just a really interesting novel about a woman and her struggles to remain an individual in the face of a demanding relationship and extended family. I’m really enjoying it.

The funny thing about reading this book is I’ve been plummeted into the 1960s, 70s, and now the 1980s. Events, styles, issues, and songs are seeping into my consciousness. I feel a great desire to feather my hair, or to listen to an easy listening radio station. For example, I can’t get THIS out of my head:

My baby takes the morning train,
he works from 9 to 10 and then
he takes the train back home again
to find me waiting for him…

I’m enjoying reading about the 1980s from the perspective that my mother must have had – or close to it, as she’s a bit younger than this character. I forget that the hair and the clothes I found so entertaining as a kid were considered sexy or hip.