This morning, as I looked at the photos from the night before of my friends resplendent in neon and lace, I got to thinking...
In 1980, the year I entered Kindergarten, Pac Man began munching his way to freedom and into our hearts. Over the next few years I would spend more allowance than I care to admit at the arcade chewing Squirt and trying to outrun ghosts.
In 1981 I saw a real princess get married on live tv, my mom and I toasted her with tea and crumpets.
In 1982 my best friend Jason taught me how to Moonwalk at recess while Canada officially became a nation independent of the United Kingdom.
In 1983 I cheered along with my brother when Luke chose the light side of the Force.
In 1985 my family purchased a microwave oven the size of a small car and our very first VCR. We watched Annie and ate popcorn and I felt rich. That same year I recall collecting pennies to help children my age in Ethiopia who had barley survived one of the worst famines in living memory.
In 1986 my school had a Space Party and I remember drinking Tang as I sat with my classmates on the gym floor. We watched in shocked silence as the space shuttle exploded into nothing on national television.
In 1989 I got an A+ on a current history paper about the end of the Cold War, my brother got his first Nintendo Entertainment System and the Exxon Valdez hemorrhaged oil over the Alaskan coastline.
Looking back, I feel lucky to have been witness to so much history, despite Chernobyl, the rise of AIDS, and acid wash jeans. I am grateful for the twist of chance that allowed me and The Enemy to grow up safe and loved in a happy home. I hope never to forget the things I've seen. Except for this one photo of Husband dressed as Springsteen, trying to lick the ear of a guy wearing a piano neck tie.
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