I remember…the 1968 Democratic National Convention

I had just turned 12 years old. One night during the week’s festivities Mike Scott, my best friend from the neighborhood, joined me for a camp-out in my backyard. I recall some time after dark walking up to one of the windows of my house. Looking inside, there on our black and white 21-inch “portable” Zenith was what seemed to be a very large indoor party being broadcast. It seemed strange and appealing. Attracted to what I saw I began thinking I should go inside and learn more about the mysteries of this thing called “politics”. But the feeling passed and I returned to the Army surplus pup-tent Mike and I were sharing. I did learn several things that night; Vienna sausages aren’t too bad unheated and V-8 may look like tomato juice but it sure didn’t taste like it. Yuck! Though Mike was a year younger he had discovered certain things before I did one of which was the ability to express his sexuality. He informed me that he was attracted to a girl we both knew. He stated he wanted to have sexual contact simply due to the size of her breasts. Donna, the subject of Mike’s fantasy, was 13 and we both knew her primarily through church activities. I remained silent on the subject. It was many years before I could discuss sex and even longer than that before I gave V-8 another chance.  (though I still haven’t developed a taste for it, uh, V-8 that is)

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About Marcus

Who me? Introverted, neurotic, self-absorbed, increasingly cynical observer of human nature and part time social critic in hiding. Most of my life spent avoiding growing up. The naive idealistic passions of youth have evolved into the eclectic eccentricities of adulthood. Northeast Florida small-town native, related to people I can't relate to. Simultaneously my own best friend and worst enemy. Politically and spiritually unaffiliated, my personal ideologies put me all over the map or off it completely.
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