Growing up in the sixties I was fortunate. My only ongoing concerns were the Russians and multiplication tables.
The Russians weren't that big of a deal, really. I knew mother and dad would protect me and if I was at school, well they had a sound, logical emergency plan in order. If we were hit with a nuclear bomb we would simply hide under our desks. Yea, that would help. I wonder what high ranking school official came up with that scathingly brilliant idea. My folks taught me right. Don't always do what you are told. Think. I think at any sign of trouble I'm runnin home.
And good lord, enough already with the multiplying. I memorized the Gettysburg address and could sing each word of every Monkees album recorded. But for some reason I just could not remember, at the tip of my tongue, all of the multiplication tables. Sue me. Look I can figure it out. It may take a pen and paper but I'll get there. And what was the hold out on the calculator? We had dictionaries to help us spell. Teachers knew we did not have to hold those numbers to memory.
I still can't multiply and one of my best friends is Russian.
