The 1980s: Big, Bad, and Explosive

The Eighties didn't arrive quietly. They detonated.

After the malaise of the '70s — the gas lines, the hostages, the general sense that America had lost its mojo — Reagan showed up in a cowboy hat and told everyone "It's gonna be alright."

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Somehow, it worked.

Excess was the whole point. Hair got bigger. Shoulder pads got wider. Wallets got fatter — at least for some. Wall Street wasn't just a place, it was a religion, and Gordon Gekko was its prophet. Greed, we were told, was good. The Dow agreed.

Meanwhile, the culture was on fire. MTV launched and suddenly music had a look. Michael Jackson moonwalked into another dimension. Madonna reinvented herself roughly every fiscal quarter. The Walkman meant you could fit your music in your pocket. But that still didn't stop the kids from toting around humongous ghetto blasters. Look at me!

Yet underneath the neon and the shoulder pads, the fear was still there. The Cold War was very much on. Kids who'd done duck-and-cover drills in the '50s were now parents watching The Day After on TV and trying not to think too hard about it.

Plus there was something new threatening us with extinction — the AIDS epidemic. Quiet at first, then ravaging and terrifying. The clap was one thing, but now unprotected sex could kill you! Maybe Jerry Falwell was right.

The '80s were big, brash, and weirdly fragile — like the Challenger, climbing fast and then gone in a flash. There was room for Big Dreams, but there were hard landings, too.

The '90s would come along soon enough and get even realer. But for now the music was loud, the hair was big, and nobody wanted to be the first one to leave the party.

- Matt Garvin