I got to see Sputnik go over in 1957. It is my earliest memory in this life; the memory probably stuck with me because my parents were making such a big fuss about it.
I got to watch Walter Cronkite intoning about how Russia had built some kind of weird wall splitting Berlin in two under cover of darkness.
I got to see that same wall come down, so many years later.
I got to see the best and the brightest minds of a generation gunned down one by one, turning so many Americans bitter and inward.
I got to see America lose a war, and then got to see America forget the lessons of that war and go charging into Iraq, flags flying, blissfully unaware that by doing so they were driving nails into the coffin of their fragile empire.
And now, this morning, this. A skinny black guy with a goofy grin and a funny name is my party's candidate for President of the United States of America. I feel old this morning. And I feel young.