So, Christmas Eve, 2013
In some very odd way, having North America Air Defense Command, who's main job was to let us know we were about to be cremated alive, tracking Santa, every year of my life, seems to encapsulate the experience of growing up as a cold war kid living at various ground zeroes
There are a very few things that also capture that: Age of Aquarius, William Barton is one. Hes a bit older than me. But it still moves me profoundly.
Obviously, I'm really glad we made it, and am still surprised that we did. Nice to be wrong occasionally.
I am also delighted that my kids don't get the whole cold war eve of destruction- ten-minutes-before-midnight-thing. I wouldn't wish that on most of the people I hate (except maybe Richard Nixon).
Okay. enough. Glad we are all alive. Merry effin' christmas.