Love the jackets on the birds.
And there was a lot of parental pressure, as well, to “follow the family plan” . . . acceptable studies, acceptable hobbies (which must remain only hobbies), acceptable dreams. Everything else was torn down. By the time I was able to escape and build myself back, I realized I had no idea what my dreams were, anymore.
It’s tough being a kid. If we only had the wits we have now to apply back then.
I still have little clue of who I am, but now, at least I embrace the unfolding as a process rather than a goal.
You’re gettin there, Chuck.