Here we are, taking a break on Liberty Island during a family trip to the New York World's Fair in 1964. We traveled there as many Baby Boomer families did, to capture a seminal moment of national optimism when America flaunted American consumerism and no one knew that Vietnam, looming, would be our country's first war to lose.
We're a string of towheads lined up in a row, oldest to youngest. That day so many passers-by commented, "Such beautiful children!" We're gazing at the skyline. How little do we realize that this monolithic city of lights and shadows flexing its muscle so far in the distance, seen in this photo blurred by time and the camera's overexposure, is just a big city. Compared to the vibrancy of youth, just a heap of cement. "Youth is wasted on the young," was heard from more than one or two.
I'm the oldest, far left. What happened to me? To us?
Here's a snippet, more than half a century later, "Out Dancing."
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