Recollection of an event that occurred more than 20 years in the past was an important milestone. It was a measure of maturity – adulthood. That significance has diminished over time.
Precisely 60 years ago, my mother, sister, and I left my father at the railroad station in Elizabeth, NJ. Mom was driving our 1950 Studebaker convertible on West Grand Street, as we went to my grandmother’s home. In the last frame of the newsreel, you can see the bridge we crossed at that fateful moment. We watched the entire event from our unwanted vantage point.