May 15, 1967 — on newsstands across America:
The Monkees were teen sensations. A film version of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood was in production. The Saturday Evening Post pondered why students “go wrong” and whether or not there had been a plot to kill Kennedy. Time was profiling Federal Judge Frank Johnson, whose decisions forced integration of public facilities in Arkansas. Grand Prix Racing was the ultimate sport according to Playboy (and Woody Allen was a mini-comic). SUVs were already alive and well. Mickey Mantle was a baseball hero, and Elizabeth Montgomery was twitching her nose in prime time on Bewitched!
And in a small room in a hospital in Chicago a woman was having a baby she was never to see again.
Soon after, in a small brick home in the suburbs, a hopeful young couple received a phone call that their little child had entered the world.
And somehow, in the blink of an eye, that child has made it to his 37th year.
I may never know from where I came, but I do know that the life I’ve been given so far has been blessed with love, friends, experience, and opportunity. For that I am thankful.
