When Life Was Simple

My mother was a stay at home mom who had a killer figure and never exercised, but had three children. My father was a hip young resident, saving the world, dodging the draft, all while sporting a moustache and his cardigan sweater.  We had a station wagon that wasn't new or fancy. It didn't have airbags, heated seats or a navigation system.  My brothers were perfectly content with their soccer ball and I with my dolls.  We watched Sesame Street, but didn't have a doll that could talk or wiggle when it tickled. We had our imaginations, instead. We left our door unlocked and the keys under the floor mat in the car. Life was simple and we were happy.