Where Were You...
Bill White has a nice post idea, though it requires a high b-s ability. Here's my stab:
6/6/66:
June 6th, 1966 was a day full of potential but I spent it mostly whining for a binky and attempting to grow teeth. I was heading towards my third birthday, a mere two weeks away. In other news, James Meredith, the first black man at the University of Mississippi, was shot.
7/7/77:
Ah yes, July 7th, 1977. A very good day as all summer days in 1977 must surely have been. I delivered approximately 42 newspapers that afternoon. Unless I'd already given up the paper route by then. I was heading toward Sophomore-dom after all.
8/8/88:
I was busy at work on a Monday morning, part of which was spent calculating the number of days I had left before I could retire. The rough guestimate was 10,200, but that was based on the assumption of the stock market returning an average of 14.2% a year, an average that would prove too ambitious.
9/9/99:
I was feeling abysmal this day, owing to the stink of cat urine in the spare bedroom. They vomit, cur, spittle, shed, urinate and defecate, don't they? It was a Thursday and by that late in the week I am like the old Brown’s outfielder Pete Gray, snagging flys and swinging the bat one-handed. Just trying to make contact.
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