En härlig tid

Narrator: It was the first kiss for both of us. We never really talked about it afterward, but I think about the events of that day again and again, and somehow I’m sure that Winnie does too. Whenever some blowhard starts talking about the anonymity of the suburbs, or the mindlessness of the TV generation. Because we know that inside each one of those identical boxes, with its Dodge parked out front, and its white bread on the table, and its TV set glowing blue in the fallen dusk, there were people with stories. There were families bound together with the pain and the struggle of love. There were moments that made us cry with laughter. And there were moments, like that one, of sorrow and wonder.

Narrator: Like women all over America, my mother confronted tragedy and death with cold ham and Jello salad.

Narrator: There are very few things in life as purely terrifying as calling a twelve-year-old girl on the telephone. Especially a really cute twelve-year-old girl.

Winnie: Knock, Knock.
Kevin: Who's there?
Winnie: Sam and Janet.
Kevin: Sam and Janet who?
Winnie: Some enchanted evening...

Narrator: Some people pass through your life and you never think about them again. Some you think about and wonder what ever happened to them. Some you wonder if they ever wonder what happened to you. And then there are some you wish you never had to think about again. But you do.

Kevin: Margaret, can I ask you a question?
Margaret: Yes, Kevin.
Kevin: Why do you have 3 pigtails?
Margaret: Because you never know when you'll need an extra rubberband.

Narrator: There's a certain look that only a trusted friend can give you. A look that says, you're about to make a total fool of yourself. I was getting that look.

Narrator: I was 13 years old. Being self conscious was a full time job.

Narrator: Around the end of 1969 a funny thing happened: 1970. Not that anyone was paying much attention. Still, with a new decade on the books, maybe it was time to heal old wounds, get over old hurts. It was possible. After all. I'd gotten over Winnie Cooper. Yep, Winnie and I were friends now. That incredible smile, the way she tossed her hair, the heart-stopping lilt of her perfume... I was over that.

Narrator: Oh, yeah...Love. Once upon a time, it was...simple. If you liked somebody, you let 'em know. And if you didn't, you let 'em know. One way or another, you knew where you stood. But as you get older, communication gets more...complicated.

Jack: I wake up, I fight traffic, I go to work, I bust my hump all day, I fight traffic again, I come home, and then I pay my taxes. The end.

Narrator: I'm not sure how I did it. My memory begins with the crack of the bat, and the sight of the ball rising. Maybe that's not exactly the way it happened. But that's the way it should have happened, and that's the way I like to remember it. And if dreams and memories sometimes get confused well... that's as it should be. Because every kid deserves to be a hero... every kid already is.

Narrator: Teachers never die. They live in your memory forever. They were there when you arrived, they were there when you left. Like fixtures. Once in a while they taught you something. But not that often. And, you never really knew them, any more than they knew you. Still, for awhile, you believed in them. And, if you were lucky, maybe there was one who believed in you.

Narrator: As for me? Well, I had my own distances to cover: four miles - New York to Paris. The thing is, until Winnie left, everything in the world was outside my front door. But now, maybe the world would have to get a little bigger.

Narrator: I grew up in a neighborhood that was a lot like other neighborhoods. Where the boxes we lived in were distinguished only by the names on the mailboxes, and the cars in the driveways. It was a place where hard-working Americans circled their wagons to protect themselves from the outside world. Our lives were made up of little moments, all delicately intertwined.

Narrator: Over the course of the average lifetime you meet a lot of people. Some of them stick with you through thick and thin. Some weave their way through your life and disappear forever. But once in a while someone comes along who earns a permanent place in your heart.

Narrator: One little problem here. How do you explain "cool" to a forty-year-old housewife who folds your sweatsocks?

Narrator: There are things about your childhood you hold onto... because they were so much a part of you. The places you went, the people you knew. Somewhere, in every memory I had, was Winnie Cooper. I knew everything about her. What I didn't know was that she was falling apart.

Winnie: Kevin, let me go.
Kevin: No! Why are you acting like this?
Winnie: Because when I act like myself, everything goes bad!
Kevin: What?
Winnie: I just want to forget the past three years!
Kevin: What about me?
Winnie: You just don't understand.
Kevin: Well, what do you want me to say?
Winnie: Nothing!
Narrator: The funny thing is, those three years had been the best years of my whole life.

Narrator: Some heroes pass through your life and disappear in a flash. You get over it. But the good ones. The real ones. The ones who count….stay with you for the long haul. The thing is after all these years I couldn’t tell you the score of the game. What I remember is sitting in that diner, up late being young. Drinking coffee with the only real hero I ever knew. My Dad, Jack Arnold. Number 1.

Narrator: They say hindsight's twenty-twenty, and I guess it's true. Because as I stood outside Winnie's house that night, I suddenly saw it all so clearly. I'd sold both of us short, by taking something that most people never have and throwing it away for something less. I'd been in such a hurry to impress people that didn't matter, I'd torn apart the only ones who did...us.

Narrator: If there’s one thing every kid learns growing up, it’s that life is a series of risks. It’s a cause and effect relationship. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Still, with the proper guidance we learn to deal with the risks. Pretty soon we set out into the world, sure in our options, confident in our choices.

Narrator: Once upon a time there was a girl I knew that lived across the street. Brown hair, brown eyes. When she smiled, I smiled. When she cried, I cried. Every single thing that happened to me that mattered, in some way, had to do with her. That day Winnie and I promised each other that no matter what, we'd always be together. It was a promise full of passion and truth and wisdom. It was the kind of promise that could only come from the hearts of the very young.

Narrator: Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house like a lot of other houses, a yard like a lot of other yards, on a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back, with wonder.