Sideswipe
Baby presidents
George H.W. Bush turned 94 this week and he is the oldest living former president in history. You are forgiven for thinking that Jimmy Carter was older, since he served earlier. Other presidential bits include: Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Donald Trump (elected over a span of 24 years) are all the exact same age. Each is 71, having been born in 1946. Clinton was the third youngest person to become president; Trump was the oldest. And Bush, at 54, was incredibly close to the median age for presidents at the start of their term, of 55 years three months. In other words, over the course of just nine weeks in 1946, three presidents were born. They would go on to be elected in three different decades (and maybe four). One would be one of the youngest elected, one would be the oldest elected, and one would be elected at precisely the typical age. (Via Miss Cellenia blog)
Farming in the Waikato in the Forties
“As a girl at the age of 4, as the eldest child I was first taught to steer the tractor and soon learned how to get down from the seat and put on the brake,” writes Judy from Remuera. “Then my Dad could feed out without taking a milker away from the cowshed as he set me up ‘driving’ the tractor and trailer while he fed out the hay or silage. At the slowest speed Dad could easily hop off the trailer if necessary. Soon I was ready to ‘drive’ the three-tonne farm truck in creeper gear. It was when I was 6 that my brother, 2, and I walked to the back of the farm one day. Dad was finishing off work and needed to bring the tractor and truck back to the shed. So without any qualms I drove the truck home over culverts and through gates and pulled up outside our house with little brother perched on the passenger side of the bench seat. It wasn’t until years later and I had children of my own that I understood why my mother had started screaming when we arrived home that day.”
Over the side
“It was December 1961, and we were all aged 14,” writes Jon from Opotiki. “The plan was to cross the estuary in the kauri clinker, load it up with Christmas trees, and then row the three miles home. Sadly, four kids and a huge load of trees in a choppy sea put the mission in jeopardy. About halfway across, we'd taken on too much water and would sink if we didn't get rid of some weight. Mike and myself on the oars made the call, ordering Ash and Trevor overboard. They refused — until I aimed the sluggun at them. Fortunately, both of them proved to be excellent swimmers.”