Born in 1958

If you were born in 1958, you arrived in the year America decided to have an absolute blast. The hula hoop went on sale in January and within four months Wham-O had sold twenty-five million of them—every kid in every suburb was spinning one in the driveway. The economy was in a brief recession, which gave the year an undercurrent of adult worry, but the children were too busy with their Frisbees and Slinkies to notice.

NASA was founded in the wake of Sputnik panic, and the space race was on. Buddy Holly and the Crickets were on the radio with "That'll Be the Day" and "Peggy Sue." Chuck Berry and Little Richard were the architects of rock and roll's temple, and a young Michael Jackson was born in Gary, Indiana—though nobody knew that yet.

*Vertigo* and *Touch of Evil* were in the theaters for those who wanted to feel unsettled. The Chevrolet Impala debuted with its distinctive bat-wing fins, and a generation fell in love with it. The first Pizza Hut opened in Wichita, Kansas, and American dining began its long shift from the diners to the chains.

BankAmericard—the first credit card—was mailed to sixty thousand people in Fresno, California. The postwar prosperity was absolute and ordinary and taken entirely for granted, which is perhaps how it should feel when it's real.