1972 -- A Year That Changed Our Lives Forever

I was thinking that same thing. Not at first, but only when I laid down to sleep last night and let my mind sink back into my memories. My eyes shot open, "Oh, why did she choose 1972 to begin? I think something really bad happened that year. She probably doesn't realize it. But it's part of our lives."

It was a year that changed the course of our lives, for better or for worse. I, too, am glad we are both here. Considering that I was so young, it is sometimes difficult to piece together the patchwork memories of my childhood. It's easier if I start by thinking to myself, "1970, we arrived in Colorado in September. Mom tried to get me into kindergarten, but they wouldn't take me because I was only four. I turned five on December 6th. We were at the Daniels' at that time. They knew the Doyles. Then September 1971 rolled around and I started kindergarten at Glenwood Heights Elementary school. I remember walking to the Daniel's house from school. It would be interesting to drive to the school and take that walk and see if I could actually recognize their house. I remember it being a two-story white house. I remember Michael Daniels (I believe that was his name). He and I were in kindergarten together, back before the "bad thing" happened. Back when I was still innocent and pure. Michael was a dear friend of mine, my best friend in kindergarten."

I remember one day, walking home from school to the Daniels' house. There were two older boys from my school walking in the same direction as me on the other side of the street. One was looking for a girlfriend. He asked me, "Do you fart?" I had no idea what that word meant. Then he said, "Will you be my girlfriend?" He soon realized that I wasn't even capable of answering his questions, much less being his girlfriend.

Though my memories are vague and obscure, I know that at some point when I was five or six, I started going to the Doyle's before and after school. I remember the first day, walking to school from the Doyle's house. Mrs. Doyle walked with me to show me the way. She asked if I would be able to get home on my own. I said yes. So, from then on, I walked to and from school by myself, but it wasn't very far, only a few blocks. I remember the school very clearly, and the park next to it with a public pool. Something bad happened to me in that park one day. It makes me sad to think of it. Over the years, I have had to learn forgiveness and compassion for people who are so lonely that they must prey on children for the affection they so desperately need.

So, now we are fully into 1972, attending school at Glenwood Heights, going to the Doyle's before and after school, living in the projects. It was only in later years that I came to understand that we had actually lived in "the projects." But as you pointed out, it was brand new and we were the first family to live in that apartment. I remember you and Claudia painted little flowers and lady bugs on the bathroom walls. Funny how human beings are. We like to add our own little artistic touches. You bought us twin bunk-beds and you made those matching quilts for me and Beth.

Chris Bean and I shared a wall. It was right next to my bed, so sometimes when I would be lying on my bed, we would knock on the wall to each other. One day, I rode my bike to the Safeway nearby and I got in so much trouble! My bike had training wheels and I couldn't wait to get them off. The funny thing about being a child is that you have no ego because you have no expectations of the way things are supposed to be. We had fun playing on the electrical boxes and in the garbage cans. Who needs a jungle-jim?

One of my saddest memories from that time in my life was when my favorite gerbil died. I was too young to be confronted with so much pain. I loved that gerbil so much, but I loved my cousin Chris even more. He accidently killed my gerbil. A cup of milk had been set on top of the cage and tipped over. Chris tried to clean the milk off by bathing the gerbil and accidently killed him. Even now, my eyes are filled with tears. That was the first being I ever loved that went beyond pure instinct. But I loved my cousin Chris too much to let him know how deeply it devastated me.

One day, you and Brian were walking near the Bear Creek in Idledale. I was in the back seat of your Volkswagon. When you came back, you found me sobbing for the loss of my gerbil. The reason it makes me cry even to this day is because I know what it means to love with a full open heart that has no shields and I know how painful it is to lose that loved one.

Anyway, we buried the gerbil behind a shed where we lived and I'm sure its little body has been returned fully to the earth now. That was 34 years ago. Love is so strange. I think it's more than just biology. It has something to do with the universe, how and why it exists.

One more thing I remember about living there was playing out in the yard in front of our apartment building. The landscapers had put in sod and little trees. The trees were held up by thin ropes tied to metal stakes in the ground. One day, I fell on one of those stakes and cut a gash in my shin. I still have that scar to this day.

Well, I feel as though I should close this year by saying something profound. I'm not sure what to say, except that the love, the learning, the pain, and the adventures are all part of life. It just so happened that there were some very profound ones that year that changed our lives forever.