On Not Getting a Rocket Ship for my Birhday--Again
Today, on my seventy-fifth birthday, I remember a conversation my half-uncle Frank and I had on or near my fifteenth birthday. We were riding our bicycles around the complicated corner of Vine and Matthews in Jonesboro, and we were happy that in just one more year we could legally drive by ourselves, and that in not many more years we would be able to travel around in space. We had spent a lot of our weekends and allowances on our space program. About fifteen years ago, having determined that I had become a man, I put away some childish things, including my car. But I still had a bicycle, and I was still interested in space travel. Now I am riding a four-year old bicycle, a gift to myself on my seventy-first birthday. It satisfies most of my travel needs, and there are buses and trains and airplanes for the others. Still, almost every year I put it out there that I want a space ship. However, I think it is time also to put it ...
