We are coming up on time capsule time again.
It’s been 50 years, half a century, two-and-a-half score, since we last buried a time capsule.
When it was opened earlier this year it was, I have to say, a disappointment — at least to me. There were hints of what the town was like in 1968, but if you only knew it from what was found in there you might think of Santa Rosa as a stuffy, bureaucratic, all-male community with not much fun and a scanty sense of humor.
Time capsules are what we choose to remember, or in the case of the one buried in 1968 what the town fathers, lord love ’em, chose to remember.
On Sept. 8, we will get another chance at profiling Santa Rosa for the future. The Historical Society of Santa Rosa will put that sealed container, filled with representative material, back into the underground vault in Old Courthouse Square.
The carefully selected contents, hopefully, will reflect what Santa Rosa is today — and how it got that way.
Not too many government documents, please. They will still be at our beck-and-call in cyberspace. Let’s have a little more of what life was like here from the 1960s to next month.
When individuals make conscious choices of memories, we pick all the good stuff: the wedding photos, the kids’ pictures, the vacations, all the happy times.
Let’s take a moment to think over the last 50 years and pick half a dozen things that should not be forgotten. (Feel free to make your own list.)
Any red, white and blue memento of America’s bicentennial — except perhaps, the crazy T-shirt with King George III on the front with the suggestion to “Reunite with the Crown,” which is rumored to have sold pretty well in the 13 original colonies;
The Redcoats, the young men who staged a Sports Banquet every year. Virtually every big name in every major sport gathered for a Santa Rosa weekend, making memories for thousands of young fans who now in their 50s and 60s still treasure the autographs and the memories;
A program from the Hi Fever Follies, that string of crazy benefits for Memorial Hospital that brought out the ham in every other person in town, including judges who could sing and doctors who could waltz;
The story of Henry’s Angels, the dozen families that bought the Christian Life Center and officiated at the birth of the Luther Burbank Center;
The Santa Rosa Symphony’s move to the spectacular Green Music Center and the triumph of “The Three Accents” — Don Green, Ruben Armiñana and Corrick Brown — to make the “Green Dream” come true; and
Clover Sonoma’s little book with all of Clo’s billboards including the one for cottage cheese called Clo’s Uncounters of the Curd Kind, ad man Jim Benefield’s championship triple pun.
Other possibilities include: a scrap of paper with a handwritten prayer from “Candy Bar Charlie,” the old guy who handed them out along with little packets of malt balls on downtown streets; a crowd shot of the 50 or more converted skeptics who gathered at Bill Quandt’s Golden Ear on Fourth Street (right next to Ling’s Furniture) to hear about a Bulgarian artist’s plans to hang a curtain from Cotati to the sea; a photo of the last five-person City Council; a pretty pink Rosenberg’s bag, and, of course, a photograph of Pepper.