The first tumble down upon the bed is the biggest thrill. The taste of his lips is like recovering something from childhood. As we play, the patron saints of the 70’s spring to mind. Laura Ingalls Wilder, Helen Keller, Gandhi, Anne Frank. They seem so out of date, their stories languishing inside volumes headed for the discard pile. But once they were revered as proof of man’s potential. The woman who endured the prairie, in the process preserving the history of our lands. The blind mute who overcame unimaginable disadvantages to become a figure on the world stage. The humble man who changed the course of history and the girl exterminated by history who nonetheless left behind her a testament of eternal hope. These figures whetted our appetite for sublimation; they created a pantheon of freaks beside whom our measly lives could never measure up.