I remember five. Far within most people's window of active memory. Let's see, swinging. Jungle gyms. Walking on milk crates. Singing songs about America. Making stuff. Kind of an art-at-all-times existence. Kimba the White Lion, The Three Stooges, and Speed Racer. Vietnam. I remember all that. We lived on Hoover near 68th.
The kid turns five today.
So, she'll remember this period. End of preschool. Beginning of kindergarten. Nationals baseball. Snow in April. Backyardigans. Iraq. Bush Jr. Kentlands.
Her party is on Saturday, but we had some gifts out this morning to surprise her; a Razor (tm) scooter and a Spongebob Squarepants (tm) Legos (tm) set. Yawn. "I might open them up after Zoom (tm)." So, now it starts. She's her own person at five, huh?
Good for her. Superman (tm) party? Sure. Invite the whole class? Sure. At My Gym (tm)? Sure. I remember four friends in the park and I was ass-happy about it too.Let's see, when I turned five, my dad was 30. I'm eleven years older than that at 41. When my dad was 41, I was 16. When the kid is 16, I'll be 53. Imagine that.
I was five in 1970. Sixteen in, what, '81. That's funny. See, chapter outline for period reference. The kid will be 16 in 2018 (and I'll be 53).
I'm not trying to make any sense here, just putting stuff into context. Remember, in 1981, when I was all grow'd up, it was a different time. Reagan, The Police, the De Lorean, "prince" Charles and that goofy hick, Diana, got married, and Jerry Brown was the governor of California.
Roll it back to 1970 and the Concorde made its first flight. Four kids were shot by the National Guard at Kent State, the USA invaded Cambodia (sound familiar?), and Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium opened. Nixon. Yikes!
The kid turns five today.
Imagine that.
