Friday, August 8, 2008


Early on in a baby's life, it truly doesn't know that reality doesn't revolve around it. When it can't see something, it believes it no longer exists. It's not until several months old that it will start to look for a toy if you hide it. Of course, even then, it's a slow process to find where you really fit in the scheme of things.

I miss the sense of omnipotence I had as a small child. When I heard that my mom was pregnant for the second time, I told her to make it a girl. I wanted a sister. Boys had cooties. That was all. Thank you. And, in my mind it was decided.

So, when people would ask me, "But, what if it's a boy?", I would look at them like they were idiots and gently inform them that that was not possible.

Call it luck or sheer force of will, but I got my way.

I clearly remember my 4th birthday. I remember the pink dress I wore. I remember telling people that 4 was my new favorite number. I got excited when NBC, channel 4 displayed their neon 4 on the tv screen. I noted that my hand would have 4 fingers if it wasn't for that odd-looking thumb. I can't remember any of my other birthdays being built up so much.

And yet, I have no memory of the major national event that happened locally that day. I know all the adults would have been talking about it. It's especially strange considering that my dad obsessively watched the news and had the habit of talking about politics like we were old enough to understand it.

I've wracked my brain, but I can't find the slightest memory of The Republican National Convention being held in downtown Detroit where Ronald Reagan accepted his party's nomination and would then go on to be president. I would like to say I remember something like that, but apparently nothing else could happen on Earth the day I turned 4.

He was the first president I can actually remember. I remember most of the important moments. I remember the crazy who shot him to impress Jodie Foster. But, I don't remember him being nominated in my hometown. Why?

BECAUSE I WAS 4! That was MY day, bitches! (Okay, I may have not known how to verbalize that sentiment, yet, but trust me, the feeling was there.)

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