There it was: one of the most important observances in American history, and you overlooked the whole thing making potato salad for the Labor Day picnic.
I celebrated August 26th I'm proud to say, and no matter who you are, you should have been setting off fireworks or otherwise disturbing the peace of the neighborhood.
Murray, KY – Most people remember events from the age of four or five. Some much later. My wife is a member of an elite number who have very early memories. She can clearly recall, as an infant, lying outdoors in her pram on a sunny day, looking up at the trees. And today she can even describe in detail what she was wearing then.
Murray, KY – In the picture, my sister Alice Jane and I are perched atop a fat pinto pony with silver studded halter and harness. On the stirrup are the pony's name, Tiny, and the date, 1941. Tiny belonged to a traveling photographer who walked Louisville's neighborhoods snapping pictures of smiling youngsters right in front of their houses. In the background is my Grandmother Schroeder's house. We lived there. Alice Jane was five. I was only two, but I remember the whole experience.
Murray, KY – I've already told you a little bit about Aunt Bell and Aunt Emma Pruitt. You know, the two spinster ladies who lived next door to Grandma Schroeder? The ones who were not really my aunts and who made me afraid of dogs? And how they calmed me down by feeding me cold, homemade biscuits?
Murray, KY – I don't usually read academic mysteries; my actual experience as a college teacher provided me with more laughs and puzzles than the books could. But David Carkeet's Double Negative, about a bunch of linguists studying the development of language in small children, is different. For one thing, these people are not in a college setting; they work in a day-care center that is also an observing laboratory called the Wabash Institute.