Body
By the time I completed a dozen trips around the sun, the notion had become ingrained in me that certain possessions were needed; no, were essential; no, were vital for self-actualization as a maturing male. Of course, this ingraining came about primarily through interactions with my school peers but the desire for these possessions was powerfully reinforced by the youth-devoured media of the day — which then included comic books, funny papers, picture shows, and that burgeoning monster called “TV”. And for my core group of mates, the primary possession craved was a BB gun, despite the forceful objections of our parents. And because I was hopelessly immersed in the cowboy culture of the day, my shooting iron had to be a lever-action carbine, like Jimmy Stewart wielded in the movie “Winchester ’73.”