Daily writing prompt

What topics do you like to discuss?

View all responses

Because the 80s didn’t whisper their way into our lives—they parachuted in with shoulder pads and a theme song.

Let’s start with MTV.

MTV was the best music video everything.
Not just a channel—it was a revolution with eyeliner and a bassline.
Because when that astronaut planted the flag and music hit our screens—
that was it.
Culture shifted.
Cool had a new name.

We weren’t just watching music—
we were living it.

Every video felt like a Culture Club—
not just the band, but the mood, the freedom, the don’t-care-if-you-get-it flair.

We weren’t just watching music—we were living it.

In my talks with you I’d walk you straight into a dark-lit arcade, where the only thing that mattered was the high score.
And hear the beep of  the dot-munching queen herself, Ms. Pac-Man, the thump of Donkey Kong, the digital drum of Galaga, and the clang of coins slipping into slots.
You didn’t need a wallet—just a handful of quarters and the determination to beat whoever had “AAA” on the leaderboard.

Saturday morning cartoons?
Smurfs. Scooby-Doo. A bowl of cereal. Pajamas still on.
A reason to live until noon.

Blockbuster wasn’t just a store.
Friday night at Blockbuster was a full-blown family mission.
You had to leave the house early—before dinner, before traffic—everyone in the car like it was a presidential motorcade, before anyone beat you to the last copy of that new release.

We had to strategize how we were going to split up and run to the New Releases that lined the back wall like they were royalty.

The Trapper Keeper
That wasn’t just a school supply. That was a statement.
Velcro so loud it echoed through the hallways.
Inside? A carefully curated world of highlighters, note-passing potential, and doodles that could get you in trouble.
If your Trapper Keeper was organized, your life felt organized—even if your bangs said otherwise.

Casey Kasem’s Top 40 countdown played like a national event.
We sat with fingers poised on the record button, trying to cut out his voice but keep the song.
It never worked, but we tried.

Google?
Nah. We had libraries.

Texting?
Please. We wrote notes—folded into perfect triangles and passed with stealth across classrooms.

Road trips?
Powered by the Rand McNally Road Atlas.

Beepers?
That was our pre-cellphone “Call me now.”

And just like that—
the streetlights came on,
the day would wind down.
“Please be kind and rewind” wasn’t just about tapes—
it was a gentle reminder:
we were done.

And the TV?
It told us when to stop.

The TV had its own bedtime.
And so did we.

No autoplay.
No late-night scroll.
Just a flag,
a soft anthem,
and a final whisper:

“We now conclude our broadcast day…”

Then came the static—
hissing snow. 

The TV had its own bedtime.
And so did we.