November 4, 2018:
Naturally there's a gun.
There would be. We're Americans, I'm seven years old. It'd be the first toy I'd own at that age.
This one's a Luger. At one time or another I had several different Luger squirt guns. I think this is more fancy, a closely-working metal model of the real deal which today would certainly get me shot by police. It had a proper mechanism, a hammer that fired, and may or may not have been a cap gun.
And I have my radio. Little gray and white bakelite transistor jobber I carried everywhere. In the long run that'll be far more important. Right now it'll be "Help!" at the top of the charts. It's not yet the long run, so for today it's gun in one hand, transistor in the other, broad smile, happy as ten clams.
September 5, 1965.