I was 2 years and 3 months old, when we were getting ready to move from San Antonio to Kansas in the early summer of 1970. My first memory was standing in the driveway and telling my father that he had to go get the "Old Car" (our 1958 Chevy, to which I was really attached) because it was in the driveway of a neighbor across the street. My father informed me that he sold it to the neighbor. I got really mad and stomped off away from him in disgust. I still recall that it was three houses to the left across the street, which my father has confirmed was true. The next memory was shortly thereafter getting to pretend-drive the big moving semi that came to pick up our stuff. I have several more memories from that summer. I can accurately describe the interior of my grandparent's house they lived in back then, and where we stayed for while that summer, in Springfield, MO.
