1976 is one of those years that stands out to me as a kid. This was the year of the United States Bicentennial, which was a series of festivities that paid tribute to historical events leading up to the creation of the United States of America as an independent republic.  Even though I was only 6 at the time, turning 7 at the end of the year and just completing kindergarten, I was blissfully excited about the jubilant party to come. It seemed every week there was some form of celebration taking place up to July 4th, the 200th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence.

As with witnessing Nixon resign in 1974, this particular year is when I started to understand government and what it meant to be an independent country. It was also an election year that would see Jimmy Carter elected to office. While President Carter’s tenure is not viewed as highly successful in American history, what struck me most about him was his genuine kindness. One of the activities of the Bicentennial was that elementary schools across the nation participated in a mock vote and I, of course, voted for Mr. Carter. His soft-spoken, Southern drawl reminded me of my Papaw and I just knew deep down that anyone like that has to be a great person.

The biggest event of the year came on July 4th and for one brief moment in time, the entire United States celebrated together. The issues that divided us as a country seemed to take a break for that one day so that we could enjoy the foundation of independence that our forefathers provided in 1776 when they signed the declaration. Red, white, and blue were everywhere and streamers lined the streets.  I spent most of the summer with my Nanny and Papaw and a great feeling of happiness and triumph was in the air as we watched the parade in downtown Livingston. While now I see how small the town is, at the time, it was the greatest place on Earth. It was festive, fun, and there was nowhere I wanted to be more than right there with my grandparents.

This would also be the year that Bjorn Borg, a natural clay-court player, would begin his incredible run of 5 straight Wimbledon titles. Borg, whom I’ve written about previously, was like a Viking God that crashed onto the tennis scene, wielding his racquet like an ax in battle. His stardom was comparable to the meteoric rise of a rockstar. This contributed greatly to the explosive growth of tennis throughout the 1970s and early 80s and his epic battles with John McEnroe, still, rank as some of the greatest tennis ever played. More on that to come in future posts.

I struggle with events during my youth, especially in the 1970s. My parents were young and striving to find their independence. It’s quite clear they had no clue what they were doing and would often put their interests as young adults above what it took to raise a child.  That kind of environment and the stress that comes from it was not only unfair but unwarranted for such a tender mind. I will admit that I wasn’t fully aware of the potential challenges they might've been dealing with at the time. It’s not easy to be a parent and I recognize the difficulty now that I am one.

My adventures with my grandparents in Livingston turned out to be small escapes from the reality of what was taking place around me. My Nanny and Papaw weren’t perfect by any means but they provided a safe and loving environment where I was simply allowed to be a kid, unafraid to be happy. 1976 was one of those special years where I just enjoyed the massive celebration around me as well as realize, even at 6, that I too could be independent to one day, choose my path.

8 of 50 - 1976

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