My memory of my childhood is spotty, at best. Swiss cheese-like, usually.
But there are a few things I remember.
Like the best Christmas present I ever got.
See that white truck behind me? It’s a replica delivery truck, from a department store called Stedman’s. I don’t remember asking for it. I don’t remember who bought it for me. But what I do remember is that, even at the age of 3 nearly 4, I knew trucks were something that boys were supposed to play with. And the budding little feminist in me was thrilled to be bucking The System.