The Fall of 1963 has been on my mind lately – along with the entire nation.  Tomorrow I hope to post something relevant to mark the 50th anniversary of that awful day in Dallas, but today, I thought I’d go with something a little more light-hearted.

In 1962-63, our family lived in a house on a street that had to be at least an 80 degree angle.  It had a great view, and the roof was the perfect place to watch the fireworks display. But walking up the hill to the house was more like climbing a mountain!

As the bus dropped me off, after my first day at Kindergarten, my mother and my 18 month old sister met me.  Mom decided to film this momentous occasion, but what happened next, was almost a disaster…

Sorry I couldn’t get a viewer to show up for this video, but the link will take you to where this clip from my home movie lives on Facebook.