The Years of My Life, 1947

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1947.

November came—and I was three.

Some things were making sense to me—

Like meals and parents, dogs and birds,

Like grandparents—and lots of words.

My brother now was off in school—

And Mom was mine! (Kinda cool.)

We moved to Norman so my dad

Could finish grad school—was I sad?

I can’t recall. But grad school done,

We moved right back—more Enid fun!

My early mem’ries are from here—

“My Shadow”—even now I hear

My grandma’s voice—and as she read

Those words and lines went in my head.*

In Roswell, were there UFOs?

And shorts and jeans—my favorite clothes.

The Polaroid arrived that year—

And Yeager flew with little fear.

Kon-Tiki sailed. The color line

In baseball fell—and that was fine.

Not far from us—tornadoes killed

A hundred seven.** Voices stilled.

And Anne Frank’s Diary appeared—

And Road to Rio (funny, weird).

And Rodham (Hillary) was born—

The woman whom so many scorn.

And Elton John—and Letterman—

And Schwartzenegger—and OJ.

All came that year that I was three—

When none of that affected me.

I ran around—and every day

Was just some time when I could play.

*Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem, which I later memorized and recited for our own grandsons (link to poem)

** Woodward, Okla.