Forty years ago

Has it been that long already?

Forty summers ago, the Democrats convened in Chicago. My father felt that they needed some "adult supervision" so he went to help with the rioting. A few years later, I noticed one of his treasures -- a tear gas cannister mounted on a rock that the police lofted at him and a few others after they'd run down what everyone thought was a blind alley. The fact that my father is still around today is testimony that there was some escape.

Later that summer, my sister and I visited my grandparents in Michigan -- a trip we would make for a few more summers until my grandparents retired to North Carolina. My father came down from Toronto but we barely saw him. The Republicans werer convening and he was staying up watching it into the wee hours. I remember coming downstairs in the morning and seeing him laid out on the couch, day after day.

Of course, there was very little discussion about it because my grandparents were backing whoever the Republican candidate was -- oh, must have been Nixon. No question, no wavering. And my father was probably furious at the Democrats for veering so far to the right.

So instead, we enjoyed my grandfather's vegetables that my grandmother cooked. We ate good meals together in peace, sniffing the night air, me waiting for my treat -- a martini-soaked olive, of which there were plenty, always, not that that many olives went into each martini, mind you.

Forty years ago, I was ten and my sister was six. Times were far more innocent then, yet there was still plenty to riot about. Much has changed, much else hasn't.