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I came of age in the ’70s. Not the coke-spoon, thumb-thick-Dacron-pants ’70s, but the other ’70s—an era of whimsy. The ubernerds at Blair High School had Jewfros and metal-rim glasses: Steve had Carlin, Martin, and Cheech and Chong on eight-track, and Jon ran for homecoming queen. Robin rode the halls on her unicycle. I studied sleight of hand. Everyone knew the knights who say “Ni!” Everyone owned a silly hat. And everyone juggled. Return to those so-unhip and so-lovely days of yore with the Flying Karamazov Brothers, who’ve toured the world since 1973 juggling hatchets, Slinkys, dead octopuses, and the equally tricky tandem of wit and music. For a true taste of the let’s-get-small days, they’ll even do a teach-in. Bring balls—rainbow suspenders are optional—when the Karamazovs perform Catch! at various times until Sunday, Sept. 15, and tonight at 7 p.m. at the Kennedy Center’s Atrium. $25. (202) 467-4600. (Pamela Murray Winters)