I started in the late seventies under the Carter administration in Long Island, New York. Gold was two hundred dollars per ounce, while the US dollar plunged. The Egyptian President, Anwar al-Sadat, and the Israeli Prime Minister Menachem, are awarded The Nobel Peace Prize for their work on the Camp David Accords. Jim Jones tells nearly a thousand church members to plunge into self-destruction in Guyana while unemployment rises worldwide.
Gas is about sixty-three cents per gallon, and you could get a dozen eggs for less than fifty cents. Star Wars is widespread, and the Commodore's hit song, "Three Times a Lady," and approximately ninety-eight percent of all American homes now have a television. They could view trendy programs like Happy Days. In my own recollection, however, these days were far from happy. At the moment, there's a war on my homefront. Although my mother suffers the brunt of the attacks, the shrapnel of screams and wailing is not missed by us kids and lodges itself permanently in my psychology.