December 15th, 2016


Fifty Years Ago Today

I was on the bus, anxious to get home to see if my birthday present from Grandma had arrived. Perhaps by this time she had discontinued the practice of giving me a present that was "for Christmas AND birthday" (which, to my eyes, was like giving me a $15 present instead of two $10 presents just because of the luck of the draw). It was taking a while, because we were behind a house that was being moved somewhere. It crept down the road, and every time it got to an overhead wire, they had to slow down further as two guys used poles to push the wires up and let it pass. I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. Bad.
I considered making a break for it and running across the fields and hoping I made it, but that seemed like a worse idea, so I stuck with it and finally we got to our driveway. I peeked into the mailbox and ran down the gravel and through the door, pausing to scoop up the box I spotted on the little table in the front hall. As I proceeded directly to the bathroom, Mom saw me and said, "Walt Disney died."