Not too long ago I wrote about my birthday, #69, the last of my 60s. Which means I was born in 1948. But I couldn’t think of any photos I had that I could include in the post, except some photos I had taken of an old truck at a salvage yard. It was definitely past it’s prime, kind of like me, so that’s what I included in the post. But a friend said that she didn’t understand the significance of those particular images and why I had chosen them. And, truthfully, I had looked online for images of model year 1948 cars, but the photos were really quite nice and didn’t portray the 69 years of wear and tear that I was going for. And again, truth be told, I knew the day would come that I’d like to include those nicer photos in a different blog post. A post that would celebrate all of us, born in ’48, the class of ’66. I actually think that the cars produced in 1948 look very classy, not at all what I was looking to portray when I wrote that first post. But thinking about it now I think we, my fellow 69ers, are a classy bunch too. Enough of a twinkle in the eye to know how to have fun, but not likely to embarrass ourselves, or anyone else. We sort of straddled the more prim and proper ways of the generation before us, but we tweaked it without actually going as far as the let-it-all-hang out ways of those younger than us. We worked hard to earn our place in the world, doing the right thing, raising our children to be good citizens, only to see many of the lessons we thought were important to teach our children become irrelevant in today’s world. It’s nothing new to wonder what this world is coming to, but we still proudly carry the banner of our generation, yes, a classy bunch are we.