Growing up as a baby boomer in post-World War II America, from Harry Trueman to hula hoops, dodging lawn darts and running with scissors, to playing outside until the streetlights lit, and eating all of my carrots because they're good for my eyes, then rocking in blue suede shoes to Elvis-Pelvis and the Cuban missile crisis, finally getting my driver's license, just before JFK's last trip to Dallas, stumbling into Vietnam, with Beatlemania and the Civil Rights Act, the ascent of Hitsville and Motown, waving farewell to Martin and then Bobby, scarcely a heartbeat later, so we took a walk on the moon, later Saigon fell, and for two years Iran held our embassy hostage, while we collected pet rocks, cabbage patch dolls and beanie babies at home, until one of ours bombed the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, we closed the books on the 20th century and began to dread the looming Y2K moment and the vast unknown beyond, so what to be for Halloween this year? followed a heartbeat later on September 11 and the World Trade Center collapse, and suddenly we found ourselves staring at computers for work and play, had emails and Pacman and the Super Marios and cell phones, the LGBTQ community finally came out flying pronouns galore, then came President Obama, followed by Trump, and now Joe, while the middle east is on fire, much as it was on the day I was born, college campuses are on riot alert, and it feels like we're sailing unalterably into dark, un-navigated seas. Take a moment now and breathe deeply. Our next stop from here's anybody's guess.
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