1976 was probably the last year I was truly happy. That's probably because I do not recall too much about that year. I was 7. I remember the summer and playing lots of baseball in the backyard, and I remember learning that I was really good at that game. The backyard could not contain my awesome power. Although my Mom tells me differently, I think the backyard has since shrunk considerably.
I remember sweating, and getting all itchy from the grass, and drinking from the water hose. I helped build forts from small pine trees and I served as an infantryman in the BB gun brigade. I was never shot in the face, but some of my brothers in arms were.
I remember that 1976 was the bicentennial. America's 200th birthday. It was a big deal. Fireworks were illegal where I grew up, however, lightning bugs travel a great distance when struck with a tennis racket.
I remember falling into the icy creek behind my house. It was entirely my own fault. My brothers quickly pulled me out of the creek and rushed me home. The incident interrupted my Dad's viewing of the Daytona 500. He was angry about that. He blamed my older brothers. I never set the record straight with my Dad about that fall. I never told him that it wasn't my brothers' fault. I regret that to this day. Neither the creek nor my Dad exist anymore.
I remember listening to Terry Jacks' "Seasons in the Sun" on my best friend's portable record player. The song was sad to me then, even though I didn't really understand what it was all about. Recent events have helped me understand that song. I guess it's even more sad now. My friend had another .45 record. It was James Brown's "Hot Pants". I don't think I will ever understand that song.
I remember my Mom and Dad loved me, and I remember my older brothers looked out for me. I had no worries.
Most of all I remember a burning desire for the approval of others, and I remember getting that approval. I had hope for the future and I believed anything was possible. I don't believe those things anymore.
I remember sweating, and getting all itchy from the grass, and drinking from the water hose. I helped build forts from small pine trees and I served as an infantryman in the BB gun brigade. I was never shot in the face, but some of my brothers in arms were.
I remember that 1976 was the bicentennial. America's 200th birthday. It was a big deal. Fireworks were illegal where I grew up, however, lightning bugs travel a great distance when struck with a tennis racket.
I remember falling into the icy creek behind my house. It was entirely my own fault. My brothers quickly pulled me out of the creek and rushed me home. The incident interrupted my Dad's viewing of the Daytona 500. He was angry about that. He blamed my older brothers. I never set the record straight with my Dad about that fall. I never told him that it wasn't my brothers' fault. I regret that to this day. Neither the creek nor my Dad exist anymore.
I remember listening to Terry Jacks' "Seasons in the Sun" on my best friend's portable record player. The song was sad to me then, even though I didn't really understand what it was all about. Recent events have helped me understand that song. I guess it's even more sad now. My friend had another .45 record. It was James Brown's "Hot Pants". I don't think I will ever understand that song.
I remember my Mom and Dad loved me, and I remember my older brothers looked out for me. I had no worries.
Most of all I remember a burning desire for the approval of others, and I remember getting that approval. I had hope for the future and I believed anything was possible. I don't believe those things anymore.
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