  1968. John Kerry was somewhere near, but not in, Cambodia, and George Bush was drinking beer in Alabama. I was but a young Jill, not having yet grown knee caps, and still having a soft spot in my head that my brother could put his finger through whenever he wanted. (as he was wont to remind me) I remember finding out about Vietnam around 1977 and I asked my stepmother, "Do you mean there was a war and no one told me about it? " and she said, "Yes. " That made me wonder what else had gone on that I didn't know about (turns out there was a sexual revolution that happened in places not called Midland or anywhere around West Texas). All in all 1968 was a good year for me. I was nurtured but not nursed, changed and was changed, spit up and slept a lot. It was a better year than Kerry had, wherever he was. 
