1969 – 1970

Late May. I’ve just gotten home from the hospital. Welcome to 831 Crown Drive, Bartlesville Oklahoma. I don’t know my phone number yet. I don’t have a social security number. I’m pre-language in fact. I can see blurry figures and hear sounds I don’t quite understand. Mostly it’s eating, sleeping and… is that a dog? Turns out I’m cesarean which is a good thing in terms of not having a weirdly shaped head. My name is Douglas.

June. The vision’s coming in pretty good now. Mom had a last minute change of heart, so now my name is Michael. I’ve been sleeping in a dresser drawer at night. My parents seem in a pretty good mood. My sister, less so. She’s going to be trouble. Apparently we landed on the moon. It was all sort of a blur to me — but my dad was really into it. He’s a scientist as I’ve come to understand so even though his area of expertise is Geology, he has an appreciation for technical achievement. Mom’s a nurse. They’re so young. 33 and 30 respectively. I mean, I’m young too — an infant, actually.

July. Fireworks. So, yes — this is my favorite thing in the world so far. Fireworks. Why can’t we have these every day? I love the smell of them. My aunt is here. She’s a crazy person. She loves cigarettes. As much as I love fireworks, I dislike cigarettes. Like, who would actually want this thing in your face?

August and it’s hot and I am unhappy. This sensation — is it always going to be like this? My phone number starts with 333. That’s all I know for now. Mom, Dad and Susan are watching Gunsmoke followed by Bonanza. SO BORING. These shows are terrible.

Finally it’s cooling off a bit. My parents not only have terrible taste in television, they also like football. As much as I liked July, I dislike September. I don’t suppose there’s any way I could put myself up for adoption? I will say this though, my parents did a pretty great job of decorating. Not just my room, but the whole house. We have this amazing off white sculpted carpet, Danish modern everything and an avocado/burn orange upholstery scheme. Love it. Even if they put all this dumb football stuff in my room, it’s still an attractive space. I can get rid of that football crap later when I start getting motor coordination.

October. Oh my god, the most fantastic thing happened. Get this, we dressed up in costumes — genuinely scary costumes from the TG&Y then we went to the homes of total strangers and demanded candy. And they gave it to us. Brilliant! Maybe this is a reward for getting through September? I heard Susan talking about her plans for next year so if I’m lucky this is an annual thing.

November. I met my grandparents. GAWD are they disappointing. Look I don’t want to come across as a snob but they’re kind of backwards. They have the same accent as those horrible idiots on the Beverly Hillbillies. They’re from someplace called Georgia. Wherever that is, I hope I never go there. It’s weird because I really like my mom and her parents are so lame.

December — so much going on here. It turns out I have another set of grandparents. Or another grandmother. I don’t get how any of this works. She’s pretty cool. She’s my dad’s mom and whereas I like her, jury is still out on him. He’s okay, points for the science. But I don’t know, he seems moody. And this is coming from an infant. Okay, the thing that happened in October was great but there’s another event that involves everything I love all in one: decorations, sparkly lights, free candy and an absence of hot weather. I get the feeling there are some strings attached to this one, though. It’s fun but everyone feels a little pressured to have fun — like they’re faking it or something.

It’s 1970 — January a whole new year and as it turns out a whole new decade. My parents are very excited about the 70’s. They HATED the 60’s. They were poor and surrounded by something called “hippies.” Now they’re not poor. Like not rich, just normal.

It’s really cold now. I thought I liked it cold but this is out of control. There is snow outside which is visually interesting. Very subtle — the whole world just blotted out with white and made quiet. Our dog somehow lives outside. He has a house of his own out there but I don’t know. I met my dad’s brother — uncle James, I think. Yikes! The guy’s on pills. My mom was on pills because of the cesarean and she’s fine now. Maybe he had a cesarean too? Not sure. Adults are weird. It’s my mom’s birthday at the end of February. I’m glad to hear it’s the shortest month of the year.

It’s been kind of boring. Mostly just sleeping. There’s rain ALL THE TIME. My mom drives me around — I usually just sleep on the floor of the front seat. She visited some friends at the Hospital where she works (worked? — she’s here all the time. Lady, I could use a little space.) We went to Arthur Treacher’s and it smelled amazing. Fried food. Add this to the list. When I’m on solids I’ll get to try that out. Can’t wait.

The furry things on the TV were talking about “April Showers mean May Flowers.” Sesame Street seems really filthy. Everyone is poor on that show. I like the furry things but where did they get these kids from? I hope I never live in one of those old red-brick apartment buildings or run into that truly disturbing clown who goes around painting the number 9 on the asphalt in bright yellow. What a creep! Don’t get me wrong, Sesame Street has appealing values: equality, fairness, kindness, sharing, numbers and letters — I’m all for it. But wherever they all live needs some curb appeal — it’s almost as dreary as Gunsmoke.