1984

October 1984

Twenty-five is such a young age, no matter how old it may feel at the time, but all things considered, it is a young age. As a child it is easy to say "when I grow up" a lot, and as a teenager it is easy to say "in a few years." But by the age of twenty-five, "when I grow up" and "in a few years" happens to be known as "now." There is no more delay, no procrastination. Twenty-five is as adult as it get, even if there is a lot of growing up to do yet.

The biggest transition from adolescent to adult, the distinguishing human characteristic of maturity, is the creation of a new adolescent: parenthood.

That is where my story begins. I am the same age now as my parents were when they became, well, parents. I can not see myself being a parent right now, and I think they felt the same way at twenty-five, because I was born three years before they would be married. For all the growing up that I have done, I do not feel like I am ready for parenthood by any stretch of the imagination, yet I was raised from this tender age.

I do not remember the first years of my life with any worthwhile detail, but I do know that I was born on a cool October 4th afternoon in 1984, and my first home was an apartment complex just between Toledo and Maumee right off US 475/23. I have never really talked with my parents about the grinding details of my first years, but I know that my parents were not terribly interested in raising their unexpected family in a tiny apartment. It did not take long for my parents to move us into a new apartment on Airport Highway, where we lived for three years before seeing another addition to the family: my sister.

I applaud my parents for whatever they did to bring me into the world properly in these first years. My mom began her career as a nurse at the now-defunct Riverside Hospital, fresh out of school, and my dad was moving between jobs, from a manager at a local restaurant to a desk job with a local Toledo company. I can imagine that nothing was was easy, having to raise a newborn, manage new jobs, and move between apartments.

At age three, with a sister on the way, it was time to make the Bruno family official, and my parents married one another, an event of which I have absolutely no memories. Shortly after my sister was born, we moved far from Toledo into a quirky yellow house near Haskins, Ohio, and the foundation for the rest of my life was set.

1984 was a good year indeed, but my life as I most remember it wouldn't kick off until at least 1989.