You only get one first rodeo.
Mine happened on a hot Thursday afternoon in July of 1967.
It happened. I got old. Middle age is in the rear view mirror and here I sit an old fart still trying to figure it out.
On a Saturday afternoon in June of 1962, when I was seven years old, I left my hometown without a parent for the first time. That day, my three older brothers and I drove from our house in Libertyville, Illinois to Lake Forest, Illinois.
Sometimes it takes only a few minutes for the world to jerk you from one stage of your life to the next.