1960s - the Beginning

It all started in a hospital in Libertyville, Illinois at 9:17p.m.

To the best of my knowledge, no plaques or statues have been raised at the site, and that's fine - wouldn't want to call any extra attention beyond what might be gained through this personal daily blog!

My first memory isn't really mine so much as what seems to be the first real family memory after I arrived on the scene.

November 22, 1963 - I was a colicky baby according to my mom, and on this afternoon she had just gotten me down for a nap when my dad called from work.  He was calling to share the alarming news that the President had been shot.  On this day, however, the bigger news around the house was that the phone woke me up!

A few months later, history smiled, as Dad was hired in Janesville, Wisconsin at a place called Sintered Specialties to be an engineer.  Just like that I was saved from growing up in Illinois and possibly becoming a Bears fan!  To this day, I consider myself a Cheesehead and life-long Packer fan.  Whew, that was close.

It was during the Glory Years, in yet another effort to get their crying baby boy to quiet down for a while, that my folks set me down in front of the Black and White TV in the living room one fall Sunday afternoon.  I became quiet, watching the action.  That drew my parents to the TV as well, and we all became fans of Vince, Bart, Jerry, Fuzzy, Max, Ray, LeRoy, and the rest of the Green and Gold.

In 1969, Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the moon.  I was old enough now not to be crying or throwing tantrums for hours on end - and I remember this event as being a pretty big deal to the rest of the family.

I started kindergarten in the fall of 1967 at St. Paul Lutheran School with Mrs. Zastoupil as my teacher.  At that time kindergarten was usually kids first experience in school and around lots of other kids - I learned to tie my shoes, started on the alphabet, and got to use these cool things called "puddle-jumpers."   (If you can find quart size metal cans (we used Hi-C cans), take two and put holes near the closed end on either side.  Run a rope through each hole long enough to reach the hands of a person standing on the cans.  Then go outside after the rain and walk through the puddles.  It was more fun than it might sound but a very early happy school memory.)

Frankly, the rest of my memory of the 60s is kind of a haze - just a different kind of haze than some other folks that can't recall the 1960s.