A Reagan memory.

I'm in fourth grade. First week in November, 1980. I come into homeroom that morning, Mrs. Fierro's class, and head to the alcove where we hang our coats. A bunch of kids surround me and say, "Who did your parents vote for?"

My mom voted for John Anderson the previous day, and my Dad voted for Jimmy Carter. Both lost to Reagan. "Anderson," I tell the kids. They run away.

When class settles in, Mrs. Fierro asks for a show of hands. "How many people's parents voted for Reagan?" she asks. A lot of hands go up.

"How many people's parents voted for Carter?" she asks. A few hands go up.

"How many people's parents voted for Anderson?"

Only little Paul W.'s hand goes up. I keep mine down. I've done enough things to get me picked on already.

The girl next to me looks at me, her eyes narrow. "You said your parents voted for Anderson," she hisses.

"No, my dad voted for Carter," I whisper back.

Okay, so I was a wimp. But what do you expect? It was fourth grade. I had to eat lunch with those kids and get picked last by them in gym, so the less I was in the public eye, the better!