1976

I have find memories of the summer of 1976. I was five, and life was rather carefree, for the most part. I would visit my dad every other weekend, and I was with my mother the rest of the time. I loved baseball. I played with my little brother, who was only a year and a half old. I remember the smell of the smokehouse nearby and the taste of A&W root beer floats. I doubt that I ever actually had one, but memory can make you believe the least likely things. I remember that time as being happy, or should I say that I choose to believe that it was a happy time, even though I know that is only part of the story.