Ran into a high school chum the other day and enjoyed a
flood of memories. Gosh it got me to thinking. Yes. I said, "thinking."
Particularly, I wondered about other kids my age as we passed
that difficult time known as the “pre-teen” years. It’s tempting to think
about those folks, and consider what must have been occupying their thoughts
as that magic age of 13, bore down upon them.
Sam Shepard, recently deceased actor and playwright who was
born the same day as I, might have been visualizing how to portray life through
acting.
George Harrison, the Beatle, might have been visualizing how
to introduce exotic instruments into Rock and Roll.
Actor Robert De Niro was probably just listening, “hearing
things.”
Jimmy Johnson, future football genius, was probably dreaming
of coaching for the University of Arkansas Razorbacks someday.
Bobby Fischer, future chess master, was probably thinking of
how to master the “Ruy Lopez” opening.
Keith Richardson? Who knows?
Barry Manilow? Who cares?
John Kerry? How America would treat a genuine war hero in
the future.
Little Eva, pop star? How to combine dancing with singing.
Joni Mitchell? How neat it was that you could see the tops
of clouds from airplanes.
Joyce Myer? How the Galilean couldn’t have possibly meant
what he said about being rich.
Sharon Tate? Sadness. Only sadness.
Joe Namath? What’s the best way to get girls?
Newt Gingrich? How the Galilean couldn’t have possibly meant
what he said about divorce.
Randy Newman? Who could tell? The thoughts would have been
flying by too fast.
Janice Joplin? How to be more popular.
Billy Jean King? What’s a man got that I don’t have?
Arthur Ashe? What’s a white man got that I don’t have?
Bob Kerrey: Bravery.
That’s enough. It was fun, but the day beckons. Maybe some readers
can think of some others.
Me? Oh. Let me think. Oh yes.
I distinctly remember wondering which Mouseketeer got to take Annette Funicello
to the studio ice cream shop during a break from filming.
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