The summer of 1961...

It's hard to believe, but 50 years ago it was the summer of 1961 and I was a skinny, soon-to-be a junior at Tucson Catalina High School. I played baseball during the day and cruised Speedway at night in my 1954 Chevy. I hung out at Johnny's Drive-In and had dark, wavy, unruly hair. If I wasn't on a ball field, I was probably hanging out with my friends, listening to Elvis Presley tunes, while dancing the "jitterbug" -- a dance that actually included holding hands with your partner, shuffling your feet and wiggling your hips. JFK was the President of the United States and Pat Boone had a song out entitled "Moody River". The New York Yankees were just a few months away from another World Series title (this time it would be over the Cincinnati Reds) and, on my birthday, July 2, writer Ernest Hemingway committed suicide.

The "pages" of my life have turned quickly and boy have times changed. I'll turn 66 in just a few days, it is a Saturday morning, it is 110 degrees outside, and I'm sitting on the sofa, watching the Casey Anthony trial.