My birthday is just over a month into the new year, so now that Christmas is behind us, my mind has fully turned to the somewhat dreaded occasion of my fortieth birthday. It’s now only 40 days away, so it seemed like a good occasion for little review. It’s hard to believe I’m about to celebrate a milestone that I remember my dad reaching when I was a child; am I really that old now, as old as he was then?

So, here I am, circa the winter of 1975, less than a year old, hanging out in the Johnny Jump Up next to the spice rack in our first house, at 1410 H Street in Anchorage. Nellie, our first airedale, squeezes by.