The seasons are changing

By Elizabeth Prata

I was born in December 1960. My first memory is when I was a few weeks past 3 years old, when the Beatles performed on Ed Sullivan Show on television in February 1964.

So I grew up in the turbulent 1960s. Day by day, week by week, year by long year, TV viewers were shown images of war, never before seen in such gruesome vitality. Live shooting in an incomprehensible jungle and a nightly count of the deaths and wounded solemnly intoned by Walter Cronkite. Other newsworthy scenes we were subjected to were of mayhem, marches, chaos, angry feminists, open homosexuals, riots, Kent State, constantly on the news and in newspapers, the only widespread sources at the time. Once, my mother asked my brother if he would go to Viet Nam as a soldier when he turned 18 or if he’d object and go to Canada. He…